


A Lesson in Humiliation

by bitter_sweets



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Barely Legal, Blow Jobs, Complete, Dark, F/F, F/M, Female Harry, Female Harry Potter, First Time Blow Jobs, Humiliation, Life Debt, Loss of Virginity, Molestation, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, POV Harry Potter, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Porn With Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Public Humiliation, Punishment, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Violence, Shame, Shameless Smut, Slut Shaming, Smut, Tragedy, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Virginity, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-06 07:44:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21223043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitter_sweets/pseuds/bitter_sweets
Summary: Harry had thought being fated to kill a Dark Lord had to be the worst thing to live with. She was wrong.Owing Draco Malfoy, a life-debt was far, far worse.





	1. Mistakes Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **READ THE TAGS!** THIS FIC CONTAINS **GRAPHIC** DEPICTIONS OF **RAPE/SEXUAL VIOLENCE.** VIEWER DISCRETION IS HIGHLY ADVISED.  
Read the tags, seriously do it. This is graphic and fucked up and it doesn't have a happy feel good ending. I hope I don't need to say this, but rape is wrong and horrible and an evil thing to do. This is not meant to condone, promote, or glorify rape in any way. If the subject of sexual violence makes you uncomfortable **do not** read this.  
That aside, if you do decide to keep reading, I hope you enjoy. This fic is completely written and I will be posting a new chapter every day until it's all posted. There's 4 chapters in total and it clocks in a little over 20,000 words. Somehow my porn grew a plot. This an AU where the characters are 18 in sixth year. Marcus Flint also was aged down to have him in the story plus held back a year.

It all started with a mistake. A stupid, simple mistake. The kind Hermione was always warning her about, but Harry had never _really_ taken seriously. She had never thought it could go so horribly wrong.

She had been an idiot.

The cauldron let out a single ominous hiss before it exploded. Boiling liquid surged towards her and she knew it was over in that split second. Yet it wasn’t. Screams surrounded her as something ripped her from her seat. A spell, she realized as she landed safely. The thick acidic smell of the potion hung in the air. Dazed, Harry looked over to see the sizzling holes a foot deep in the stone that were the only remainders of the spill. Her blood went cold.

“My _goodness_ Miss Potter!” Slughorn waddled over, his face pallid and sweating as his mustache trembled. “What on _earth_ do you think you’re doing adding _whole_ mandrake leaves?! You could have _died_!”

“_Really_ Potter? This is a NEWT level Potions class. You’d think you’d pay a little more attention.”

She whipped around. Draco Malfoy pocketed his wand, watching her with a barely disguised sneer. Arrogance from his platinum hair and pointy face to his unnecessarily expensive robes. He was as handsome as he was rotten, and she _loathed_ him. Carefully she stepped away, adopting her own sneer.

“And here I thought _I_ was the one with the hero complex, Malfoy. Why bother? Wouldn’t your precious Dark Lord want me dead?”

Silence fell over the classroom, even Slughorn watched them with bated breath. Harry had a funny feeling this conversation would end up in the Prophet, Rita Skeeter exclusive. Malfoy’s gaze was impossible to read as he looked at her before a slow smile crept across his face. It was sharp and white, like the fangs on a snake, and she knew whatever he was going to say would be terrible. And it was.

“Are you honestly _that_ stupid, Potter? I _saved your life_. You owe me a life debt now.”

For a heartbeat there was stunned silence and then-

“You- you _can’t_ be serious!” Ron stood up in his seat, blue eyes wide and freckles stark against the pale colour he’d gone.

“Stuff a sock in it Weasel,” Pansy Parkinson jeered. “Draco’s right. Your precious little Savior owes him a life debt.”

Harry felt stupid. Yet another thing she _should_ know, but didn’t. It was a wonder Dumbledore was even bothering to train her. As always, she looked to Hermione for an explanation.

“He’s right, Harry,” she said, pitying. “He didn’t have to save your life, but he did. You owe him a life debt. If you don’t do what he asks of you to fulfill it, you’ll lose your magic.”

“You- you’ve got to be joking!” She whipped to look at Ron but he just gave her a sickly nod. “You- _seriously_?! That’s bullshit!”

“Language, Miss Potter,” Slughorn said, mopping at his forehead. He was nearly vibrating with excitement. “My goodness- what a turn of events!” He paused and straightened up, coughing a bit before he said, “Nevertheless, there are potions to be brewed! Yes, I’m sure Miss Potter and Mr. Malfoy can work this out outside class hours. Back to work everyone!”

There was a mumble of dissent, but everyone gradually returned to their potions. Harry felt numb with shock. She owed a life debt to Draco _fucking_ Malfoy. It made her sick. There was no potion for her to return to, so she spent the class watching Hermione finish her Invisibility Solution flawlessly. Glumly she thought of the Prince’s book but knew after the bathroom incident it wasn’t safe to retrieve. Her stomach twisted into knots as she remembered running water, shattering glass, and blood. So much blood. What kind of revenge would Malfoy extract? This year had given him only more reasons to hate her.

She would rather give herself to Voldemort than lose her magic.

_Maybe it’s selfish_, she thought as she sat with Ron and Hermione in a sunlit courtyard. Surely failing to save the world should be a terror that keeps her up at night. It was what everyone was telling her she needed to do. Why was it the thought of losing her magic the one that made her feel cold? A stupid question.

She knew why, of course.

Her life without magic would be nothing. Living with the Dursleys was hell. Every summer was stepping back into said hell with only memories of paradise to hold her over. To lose her magic would to be to lose everything that made life worth living. The muggle world held nothing for her. That had to be a fucked thing to think- but it was true. Hogwarts was her home. The Wizarding World was her home.

Besides, it wasn’t like she’d be much use hunting Horcruxes as a Squib.

“Do you- do you want to talk about it, Harry?” Hermione’s voice was gentle.

Harry sighed. “What’s there to say, ‘Mione? I could be dead for all we know. He could hand me over to Voldemort at any time, seeing as he’s a Death Eater and all,” she added pointedly.

Hermione gave her a disapproving look and Ron said, “You’re _still_ on about that?”

“Well, I’m about to have my proof, aren’t I?” She did her best to sound flippant rather than the mixture of angry and scared she was really feeling. “If he orders me to off myself or- or to send myself Voldemort or something, then I’ll know then, I reckon.”

“He is a rotten git, whether he’s Marked or not, I wouldn’t put it past the slime-ball,” Ron said darkly. “It’s exactly what his father would want.”

Hermione put her head in her hands. “This is _awful_.”

_You’re telling me_. Harry sighed.

“Maybe Professor Dumbledore will know what to do.” Hermione straightened up a bit with a hopeful gleam in her brown eyes. “He’s likely dealt with plenty of life-debts.”

“Mum and Dad are always going on about wise and old he is.” Ron wrinkled his nose. “Granted he also vouches for Snape so there’s that.”

“_Professor_ Snape, Ron. And Professor Dumbledore says he has good reasons for trusting him.”

“Come _on_, Hermione. You _know_ he’s rotten. He’s been nothing but horrible to us since day one. He’s a double agent for sure.”

“_Of course_, he’s a double agent, Ronald. But he’s on _our_ side!”

Harry silently agreed with Ron, but she let them bicker uninterrupted. As she stared up at the blue of the sky, she wondered how her life was going to change. Because Malfoy wouldn’t ask for something easy. He’d either kill her outright or ask her for something expensive or humiliating or painful. The thought of Dumbledore sent a complicated ache through her chest, but she knew he was her only shot. If anyone could fix this mess, he could.

“There’s nothing I can do, I’m afraid.”

_Of course, there isn’t_, Harry thought numbly. Dumbledore’s eyes were like chips of the sky filled with gentle sadness. It felt suffocating, the pity she could see in them. Her voice was rusty. “Nothing?”

He sighed, reaching up to pet the bird perched on his shoulder. Fawkes’ plumage was all young feathers still, soft gold instead of brilliant flame oranges. When the phoenix trilled Harry felt some of her stress ease. “I’m sorry, my dear girl. I would if I could. Life debts are an ancient magic and to try and break one is foolhardy at best. My only condolence is he can’t ask you to do something that would knowingly result in your death.”

“So, he can’t deliver me to Voldemort?”

“Goodness no! That would negate the whole point of the life-debt. He wouldn’t be saving your life if he had you throw it away, would he?” The old wizard smiled, popping a yellow candy into his mouth. “Would you care for a lemon drop?”

“No, thank you, Professor.” She felt more like puking than eating.

He placed the offered dish down, star dazzled robes sparkling as they moved. “Alas, perhaps another time. I wouldn’t worry about young Mr. Malfoy if I were you, my dear. I’m sure things will work out in the end.”

Harry didn’t agree, but she knew the Headmaster wouldn’t want to hear that. She kept it to herself as she bid him goodnight and made her way down the spiraling staircase. Seeing him hadn’t made her feel better after all. Her heart was beating unusually fast, every step heavy with the realization this was really happening. Dumbledore couldn’t do anything. She hadn’t really believed he wouldn’t know what to do- he was so wise- but there it was. Hard and cold like a stone in her palm. Solid. Real. Her stomach roiled and she knew it was childish, but she was scared. Dumbledore might not think Malfoy was capable of something horrible, but Harry knew he was.

A Death Eater was capable of anything.

Harry didn’t sleep much that night. It was restless at best and filled with nightmares of what Malfoy would do. She woke abruptly, cold sweat snaking down her skin. The dormitory was dark around her. Lavender’s snores were the only sounds asides from the rain and wind outside the tower. Despite the weather the sky was lightening into deep blue and she knew she wasn’t getting anymore sleep. Harry sighed, blowing a curly strand of black hair out of her face. _Fuck_.

As she laid there in the darkness, she realized something. She could feel it. The life debt sat like a small pressure on her core. A constant reminder of her new responsibility- her new _chains_. For a moment she couldn’t breathe with the fury licking up her throat like flames. It was suffocating. She _hated _him.

She hated _herself_ for being so careless and getting in this situation.

For a moment she was choking on the unfairness of it all. To lose Sirius, to face Voldemort over and over, to have to train when she just wanted _so _badly to be a normal student. And now _this_. It took effort to uncurl her fist and let go of the anger.

_It’s not fair!_

But that didn’t matter. It never had. Just another thing to fuck up her life. Harry sighed.

Getting upset wouldn’t solve anything. She rolled out of bed. There was no point in dwelling on it. She would just have to deal with it as it came, this was just a part of her reality now. Life hadn’t come to a stop when Cedric or Sirius died, there was no reason it would now. She would endure it. She always did.

Harry did her best to go about her day normally. Breakfast was had under a stormy grey sky, eggs and toast tasteless in her mouth. Every time she looked over at the Slytherin table Malfoy was staring at her. His silver gaze was an uncomfortable weight in their first period Transfiguration, a constant prickle at lunch. The conversation was going to happen eventually, but Harry would put it off forever if she could. She could tell by looking at his face that whatever he’d chosen was bad. He looked too smug. Too Slytherin.

“Hey Potter, we need to talk.”

Harry stopped, not wanting to turn around but doing it anyways. “What do you want Malfoy?”

She had hoped she could slip into Gryffindor Tower quickly after last period, but apparently, she wasn’t so lucky. Her stomach felt heavy while he strode forward. He dripped confidence as if he owned the world. Or like his Lord would soon. She wanted to hex him so badly she could taste it.

“Just a little chat. You _do_ have that life-debt after all. I figured I could tell you what I want and relieve you of any stress you may have.”

“What is it?” He sounded too friendly, too pleasant, and she didn’t like his smile.

He shrugged, nonchalant. “You just have to do exactly what I say for let’s say . . . one year, fair?”

She blinked. “Exactly what you say?”

“Exactly,” he confirmed, smiling slightly again. “Who _wouldn’t_ want the esteemed Chosen One as their own personal house elf?”

It sounded awful and she knew that was exactly why he’d picked it. She gritted her teeth. “Fine. It’s not like I get a choice.”

“You don’t,” he agreed, sounding entirely too pleased about that fact. “First order; carry my books for me back to Slytherin. I don’t feel like doing it myself.”

She stared at him before narrowing her eyes. “Fine, you fucking prat.”

“Ah- ah- Potter. Is that how you speak to your betters? From now on you can only compliment me, and you have to do so at least once a day.” His smile just widened at the outraged look she gave him.

There weren’t words to dignify the situation, she just held her hand out for his bag in a stony silence. One year. She could make it one year as a house-elf. The Dursleys had her spend the first thirteen years of her life as nothing but a house-elf substitute. And after that they still took her summers. Cleaning up after Draco _fucking_ Malfoy couldn’t possibly be any worse. She’d faced loads worse. This was _nothing_.

“That counts for today, you know,” he said, unmoving. “And seeing as we’re not going to see each other again today . . .”

He couldn’t be serious- but he was. Harry’s jaw worked for a moment before she managed, “You’re very good at summoning people out danger.”

“Hm, it’s a talent of mine, I suppose.” He smirked. “How kind of you to notice, Potter.”

She took the bag he offered her angrily. It was only the warning tightening of the pressure on her core that kept her from insulting him. One year. She could do one year. Harry tried to convince herself that even as Malfoy took his newfound power to heart. It was just a year. She could survive a year.

“Pick that up, would you, Potter?”

“I’m a bit peckish, fetch me a drink from the kitchens, would you?”

“Spend the evening holding my bag, Potter. I could use a house-elf around now.”

Harry slammed her books down, the sound echoing through the library. Hermione wisely didn’t hush her, instead asking, “Are you okay Harry?”

“Do I bloody _look_ okay?!” she hissed, barely able to contain her temper as she gave a mocking impression of Malfoy, “_Get me a pudding Potter, I’m hungry. Oh, you got peach? I wanted butterscotch even though _I fucking asked for peach_!_”

“It was just a question.” Hermione’s expression was mild, and Harry felt a bit of guilt seep in.

“Sorry- I’m sorry. I’m just- I’m stressed.”

She put her head in her arms and gave a deep sigh. It had only been a week and she was already beyond exhausted. Malfoy called on her for every inane thing from polishing his shoes to doing his tie for him. If she never heard the word ‘Potter’ again in her life it’d be too soon. And the rest of the Slytherins made things even worse. Half the time she was carrying around Parkinson’s and Zabini’s things too or doing whatever useless little things they wanted at the order of Malfoy. She had to force herself to unclench her fists.

“It’s only a year, right?” Hermione said tentatively, “One year and you’re free.”

“Yeah.” Her tone was tired, and she didn’t try to pretend otherwise. Harry had a feeling that one year would test the limits of her sanity. Some days she wished she could just curl up in bed forever.

_What a mess._

“My legs are sore, Potter. I need a foot stool.”

Harry had been tested many times in her life, but it took everything in her not to hex Draco Malfoy in that moment. She was _so tired_. The air seeped through her robes and she shivered, hating how gloomy everything seemed in the greenish light. Plenty of eyes in the Common Room, Malfoy _loved_ an audience to order her around. _Slimy git_. She forced herself to breathe carefully and evenly as she found an unused foot stool and brought it over to him.

He made a show of placing his feet on it, sighing after a moment. “This isn’t right. I don’t like it.”

“Well, what am _I_ supposed to do about that?” Harry asked through gritted teeth.

Malfoy gave her a lazy once over. “Get on your hands and knees, you may as well be useful.”

Parkinson let out a squeal of giggles and Harry gave him a blank look. “Excuse me?”

“Get on your hands and knees,” Malfoy repeated slowly as though speaking to a small child. “You can be my foot stool.”

“_You_-!“ She cut off as her chest ached with a warning, barely catching herself on the insult.

“We don’t have all day, Potter. Good Gryffindors belong on their hands and knees,” Zabini said, causing Parkinson to giggle again.

In that moment Harry couldn’t have honestly said who she wanted dead more; Voldemort or Draco Malfoy. She took a deep breath. One year. She could survive one year. This was nothing. They could order her around all they wanted, they wouldn’t get to her at the end of the day. Compared to Voldemort this was child’s play. It was pathetic, it was-

“_Potter_. I’m _waiting_. Do you _want_ to be a Squib?”

She gave Malfoy a scathing look but didn’t say what she wished she could. It was unbelievably bitter to kneel on the hard stone in front of him. She held herself stiffly on her hands and knees, not making eye-contact with anyone. Curfew would be eventually, and she could head back to Gryffindor Tower. This would be over before she knew it. This was _nothing_.

“Much better,” Malfoy said as he put his legs on her back.

Parkinson could barely talk through her laughter. “Oh- oh _Merlin_! Look at her! _Merlin_\- the precious Chosen One, a _footstool_!”

“She looks better on her knees,” Zabini said. There was something in his tone that made Harry stiffen uncomfortably.

“And to think _she’s_ supposed to defeat the Dark Lord. What a joke.” Nott shook his head, laughing while Crabbe and Goyle joined in with their guffaws.

She could hear the smile in Malfoy’s voice. “It just goes to show what idiots most wizards and witches are.”

Their conversation gradually moved away from her and she could drown it out. Her knees were starting to ache against the hard stone, and she could feel her heartbeat in her palms. Harry wished for the millionth time she had shredded those mandrake leaves. It was useless, of course. This wasn’t a nightmare; this was her new reality. Malfoy using her as a house-elf and a _fucking _foot stool. _Idiot._ Her chest felt tight with anger and she could feel warmth in her cheeks. His legs were a constant reminding weight on her back. One year. She had to endure this for one _year_.

Seconds had never felt so long.

“She has to do _anything_ you say, right?” Zabini said during a lull in the conversation.

“Potter?” Malfoy smiled. “Of course. She owes me her life after all. There wouldn’t even _be_ a Chosen One if not for my kindness.”

“Anything like . . . having her show us her tits?”

Parkinson let out a surprised laugh. “_Blaise_!”

Harry’s heart was roaring in her ears as she stared at the stone, listening to the amused tilt of Malfoy’s voice. “_Anything_. She’s my slave for a year.”

She hadn’t realized their thoughts could have even gone in this direction. They- they had to be _joking_. They were sick. This was- she had to work to control her breathing. Even for a joke, this was beyond too far. To even _think_ of doing it- it was- Only the pressure in her core kept her from bolting.

“How about you have her show us her tits then?” Crabbe sounded disgustingly eager. “Always thought the Gryffindor bitch should loosen up.”

Parkinson snickered. “You’re all a bunch of pervs.”

Malfoy laughed and shifted his legs off her. “Why not? Come on then, Potter. Stand up and show us your tits.”

Her heart felt like it was stuck in her throat. She didn’t move. “You’re joking.”

“Nobody’s laughing. Get up Potter, or we can see how well you do facing the Dark Lord _without_ your magic.” The amusement was gone, and he sounded harsh and demanding now, everything she’d always known he was.

_Monster_. They all were.

“I’ll tell Dumbledore about this.” She got to her feet slowly, knees twinging and aching from having remained kneeling for so long. “This is- this- you can’t _do_ this!”

“Oh really? Well, consider _this_ an order Potter. You aren’t allowed to communicate to anyone or anything in any way what goes on when you’re around us.” He smiled. “Feel free to break it and lose your magic. Hogwarts could use one less Gryffindor.”

Her throat felt tight. “You-“

“Oh- for fucks sake- take your tits out already, you stupid bitch,” Crabbe snapped, meaty features sneering.

“You heard the man, Potter,” Malfoy drawled. “We don’t have all day.”

The pressure on her core tightened with each second passed. She couldn’t believe what was happening- this was- it was like walking into a waking nightmare. Being a house-elf was one thing- this was _too much_. How could they seriously want to- to- she took a harsh breath. Part of her had wondered if Malfoy really wanted to work for the Dark Lord. He had looked tired and haggard, shadows under his eyes after spending hours in the Room of Requirement. And he had cried in the washroom. Part of her wondered if he was just scared, in too deep.

How _stupid_.

Draco Malfoy was nothing but heartless, and she knew that for a fact as she pulled her robes open. The Slytherins were watching her with an eerie intensity and she wanted to puke. _Think of your magic_. That was it- that was the only thing at the end of the day. There would be nothing without Hogwarts. And it was just skin, she could show skin, she could-

It was _humiliating_.

Her blouse was pulled up to reveal a red bra and Parkinson let out a snort. “Fitting Potter.”

“Gryffindors are always a tease,” Zabini said, smirking as he leaned forward.

“Take it off.” Crabbe was watching her with such hunger she felt ill.

She hated them with every breath she took as she pulled the bra up and over her breasts, letting them fall free. Her nipples pebbled quickly in the cold air of the dungeon, rosy against her pale skin. All focus was on her. She couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze, feeling her face burning with a furious prickle behind her eyes. They were _disgusting_. Her breasts tingled under so many stares and she couldn’t remember being so uncomfortable before.

“Not bad, can we touch?” Crabbe asked Malfoy.

Harry wanted to snap, but Malfoy answered for her. “Sure. She’ll let you.”

“You- you can’t-“

“Disobeying an order Potter?” Malfoy asked as her core gave a warning twinge.

She stared at him. He was _sick_. Crabbe didn’t wait for any more permission, getting up and striding over eagerly. She flinched as his rough hands grabbed both her breasts. He wasn’t gentle, squeezing and playing with them.

Parkinson didn’t bother to keep her voice down. “Look at her- I bet she enjoys it. Precious little Gryffindor letting the Slytherins play with her tits.”

“Can the rest of us have a go?” Zabini asked, dark eyes alight with interest.

“Give me a second. I’m not done yet.” Crabbe plucked at her nipples and she gasped in surprise. “Yeah? You like that, huh, Potter?”

“First time seeing tits?” Harry sneered, trying to cover her humiliation with rage.

Crabbe just leered. “First time seeing _yours_.”

“You done yet, Vince?” Nott asked.

Zabini interrupted before he could answer. “Hey! I have second dibs already!”

Being treated like an- an object- it was humiliating. Harry could feel such a rage simmering in her, she knew she’d never forget this. She could have forgiven the ordering around like a house-elf, but not _this_. _Never_ this.

She would get her justice- her _revenge_. This _had_ to be against the law, and even if it wasn’t, she didn’t care. They would _pay_. They could humiliate her, but they couldn’t kill her- she would survive this. This was nothing- _nothing_ compared to what she’d been through with Voldemort.

Harry held onto that desperately.

Crabbe gave one last painful squeeze before letting her go. “Eager pricks. Have your go, then.”

Zabini approached her, white teeth in a grin. His hands were dark against her skin as he played with her breasts. The feeling of him touching her made her ill, but there was nothing she could do. Her core burned slightly, probably sensing the insults in her mind. She _hated_ them. It wasn’t like Voldemort or Umbridge even, it was personal. _Deeply_ personal. Zabini smiled at her.

“Never thought I’d get to see the Chosen One showing her tits off for us _evil_ Slytherins. Cheers Potter.”

Nott’s rough hands replaced him, words washing over her. She couldn’t give them a reaction. No matter the number of sneers and laughter. Goyle’s hands were surprisingly gentle, but Parkinson’s nails left scrapes where she grabbed her. Harry glared at her.

  
“Fucking slut, I bet you like it.” Parkinson smiled and pinched her nipples hard, causing Harry to hiss in pain.

Malfoy laughed and waved his hand. “Go on Potter, you enjoy it, tell Pansy.”

Her heart pounded in her ears and warmth flooded her face. She could feel Parkinson’s softer, smaller hands kneading at her chest slowly. This was-

There weren’t words.

She swallowed hard before she could manage a strangled. “I- I’m enjoying it.”

The entire group snickered, Parkinson’s hands digging into her flesh painfully. “Oh? Then shouldn’t you thank us? Seeing as we treated you so nicely, and all.”

Zabini was bent nearly double as he laughed. Malfoy’s couldn’t stop smirking. “Smart girl. You heard her, Potter. Why don’t you thank us all for treating you so nicely and tell us how you enjoyed it so much?”

It felt like breaking each of her fingers one by one. But the pressure on her core was too threatening. Her magic was worth anything. Even feeling her pride crumble like ash. She _hated them_. _God_, she hated them. The feeling of Parkinson’s grubby little hands on her flesh made her want to puke.

_Disgusting_.

“Thank you all . . . I enjoyed it. S- so much.”  


Parkinson smirked, fingers tormenting her nipples. Harry tried to not give her a reaction. “Of course you did. Gryffindors have always been easy to please.”

The Slytherin girl let her go as that sparked another round of laughter. Malfoy was the one to end it, giving a yawn. He leaned back in his seat. “Well, I don’t know about you all, but my legs are tired and I could use a footstool again.”

“She doesn’t need a top to be a stool,” Crabbe said, giving her a hungry look. “The Gryffindor bitch looks better with her tits out anyways.”

“Fair.” Malfoy waved a hand at Harry. “Go on then, on your knees again.”

“You’re- _you_-!” She wanted so badly to say them, but the ache became painful and she choked on the words.

His smile made her sick with rage. “Go ahead. Say it. Be a Squib. The Wizarding World ought to be rid of you soon enough anyways.”

It was impossible to speak around the lump in her throat, the frantic beat of her heart. This was disgusting- pathetic- _humiliating_. And that was exactly why he was doing it, of course. She had never liked Draco Malfoy, in fact she’d hated him most of their acquaintance. But she had never thought he was this twisted- this _sick_. Harry breathed slowly, feeling the squeezing on her core getting sharper. This was too much she couldn’t-

_She had to._

Because in the end, her magic was what mattered. One year. One _fucking_ year, she just had to make it one-

“_Potter_.”

She got down on her hands and knees, breasts still hanging out. Tears were prickling at her eyes and she could feel the burn of her face. They were _monsters_, vile twisted- She took a shuddering breath as Draco placed his legs on her back.

“Not a bad view Potter.” Malfoy sighed in satisfaction. “Right where you belong.”

And that was where she stayed.

When they finally let her leave, Harry made it back to Gryffindor Tower at a near run. She didn’t speak to anyone. A quick shower and she sank into her sheets. Hermione gave up questioning her soon enough and Harry was left in peace. _Breathe._ She could still feel her heart pounding frantically. She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could Obliviate herself. Malfoy’s smug expression was there every time she closed her eyes. Even now she could feel the phantom of hands on her breasts. They stung where Parkinson’s nails had cut the skin. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding, her head going a bit tingly from lack of oxygen. How was she going to survive a year of this?

Harry buried her head in the pillow and cried.

She’d gotten good at doing it silently at the Dursleys. It was all too much. Hunting for Horcruxes, Dumbledore getting weaker, people disappearing, new attacks every week. And now _this_. Her skin was rubbed near raw, but she could still _feel_ _them_. Repulsive- _vile_\- she held back a sob. Slytherins were nothing but _monsters_. She had thought Malfoy may have had some spark of- of _something_ in him.

She would never make that mistake again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! There is 4 chapters in total and I'll be posting them every day until it's fully posted. Feel free to drop me a comment letting me know what you thought. Things only continue to escalate from here. Always feel free to drop suggestions for future fics. No guarantee I'll do them, but I'm always looking for inspiration. This fic was actually written with inspiration from a suggestion for some Draco/fem Harry.


	2. Escalation

“Y’ know, mate. Spending all her time in the library is par for the course for Hermione, but when _you_ do it, it has me worried.”

Harry looked up at Ron, blinking slowly. Her eyes felt like they weighed a ton. She’d been holed up in the library for hours now, curfew almost there. Malfoy was busy in the Room so she’d had a break from being his house-elf. If she just researched hard enough, _surely_ there was something Dumbledore had missed. He wasn’t perfect. He had to have missed _something_.

“Harry?”

“Sorry.” She sighed and rubbed at her eyes. “I didn’t mean to worry you, I’m just- looking things up.”

He gave her a concerned look. “Is this about the life debt?”

“What else?” It was hell, pure hell. She’d do _anything_ to get rid of it.

The Slytherins had taken that disgusting evening to heart and now being forced to remain topless was just another night. Her heart began pounding again at the thought. They were a bunch of depraved monsters- probably all of them had the Mark. _Disgusting_. She needed the memories for when she reported them, but at the same time she desperately wished she could erase them. This entire year was going to shit, but this was the true depths. Even the _Dursleys_ hadn’t sunk as low as sexual harassment.

“You haven’t really talked about Malfoy in the last few days.” Ron sat down at the table, concern in his expression. “Are you alright Harry? I know I’m not- I don’t get things like Hermione does. But I can listen.”

She was anything _but_ alright.

“I’m fine Ron. Just- just tired of being a house-elf is all.”

He didn’t believe her, she could tell, but he played along anyways. “Well- if you’re sure. Just remember the offer is there.”

Sure, it was there, but Harry couldn’t take it. She said nothing.

Ron gave an uneasy smile at the awkward air that had settled. “Gin told me you lent her your Firebolt.”

Harry’s stomach dove. She struggled to sound optimistic. “Yeah- I mean, I’m not going to get much use off it, right? Ginny needs to be as fast as she can be. I wouldn’t put it past Malfoy to get a Nova for the match.”

The thought of the newest ‘best broom’ didn’t make her burn with envy like it may have once. She had better reasons to hate Malfoy now. Besides, her Firebolt was all she’d ever need. What _did_ make her feel sick with envy was the fact that Ginny would be playing Seeker instead of her. No amount of regret would undo casting the Prince’s spell. She was fucked. Harry wouldn’t even get to see the match, locked away with Snape for detention once again. It was bitter and that bitterness only doubled with Malfoy’s new power over her.

She bottled it, smiling as she talked to Ron about Quidditch. She suffocated the fear every night she returned feeling dirtier than the last. This was bearable. Voldemort had already done way worse; he’d taken her parents. This was _nothing_. And besides, she could find her way out of this situation, just like she always did. _Something_ had to be hidden in the library, some spell or- or _anything_ to destroy the debt. Shadows grew deeper under her eyes, but she only stayed up later and later. Page after page, some nearly coming apart in her fingers from age. Delicate spiderweb writing and art stretching across yellowed parchment. Words upon words. But not what she needed, never what she needed.

** _THE-GIRL-WHO-LIVED-TO-BE-A-SLAVE_ **

“What a load of rubbish.” Ron tossed the newspaper down, nose wrinkled. “You’d think they’d have something new to report on after two weeks.”

“They do, it’s just not front page worthy,” Harry said bitterly as she flipped through the discarded Evening Prophet. Her dinner had lost appeal. “Look here- another attack on a muggleborn family. _Merlin_\- it’s a bloody _war_ and they’re putting _gossip_ front page.” She flung the paper down. “It’s _disgusting_.”

Hermione picked it up. “It’s not surprising. People get tired of hearing about nothing but destruction. They probably sell more papers this way. Not that I’m saying that makes it right,” she added quickly at the looks on Harry and Ron’s faces.

Harry didn’t get a chance to respond.

“Potter.”

It felt like acid rolling across her skin as she looked up at Malfoy. “Yes?”

He smiled slightly. “We’re having a bit of a party. I need you to get the food from the kitchen and set it up. Don’t worry, I have a list for you and instructions. I wouldn’t want you to tax your brain trying to remember multiple things.”

“Piss off, Malfoy,” Ron snarled, standing up. “Leave her alone.”

The blond raised an elegant brow. “Excuse me? Was I talking to you Weasel? _No_. I was talking to Potter who owes me a life-debt. Of course, feel free to hold her back and have her stripped of her magic. I’d _love_ to watch.”

His smile was twisted, and Ron flushed beet red. “You _prick_, I’ll-!“

“Ron.”

He gave Harry a betrayed look when she shook her head at him. “There’s no point in making a scene. He’ll get what he wants in the end anyways.”

“Precisely, Potter.” Malfoy gave her a condescending smile. “What a breath of fresh air to hear some sense out of your mouth. Now- are you going to get off your pretty little arse or do I need to repeat the instructions in simpler terms?”

She got up and reminded herself what would happen if she tried to hex him. Things were bad enough as they were. And Malfoy clearly had no moral compass. Her heartbeat picked up again. Why couldn’t he just _leave her alone?_ “I’ll see you guys around I guess.”

Malfoy cut off whatever Hermione was going to say, snapping, “Yes, yes, farewell to the Mudblood and Weasel. Get moving _now_ Potter, or you can also say goodbye to your magic.”

Ron said something explosive, but Harry was already in motion. It _hurt_. Disobeying was _not_ an option. She took the list Malfoy shoved into her hand, letting his insult wash over her. Away from his presence she could breathe a bit, but any time she slowed down the burn on her core would return. The thought of being made to run errands by Malfoy used to make her see red with rage. Now she desperately hoped that was all he wanted today. The nerves clung to her as she tickled the pear and slipped into the kitchens.

“Harriet Potter is coming to see Dobby!”

She managed a half-grin for the eager elf that barreled into her waist. The pile of hats atop his head nearly brushed her chin and the sight made the smile turn genuine. “Hey Dobby. Good to see you.”

The rest of the elves were crowding around the edges of the main kitchen, all in neat togas bearing the Hogwarts crest. Thankfully, Kreacher was nowhere in sight. Dobby let her go and beamed up at her with glistening green eyes. “Dobby is most grateful for Harriet Potter visiting him! What is Harriet Potter be needing? More spying?”

The memory of spying on Malfoy hit her like a blow to the stomach. She’d been so obsessed with it, she couldn’t believe she’d forgotten, but the last two weeks had pushed it from her mind. Figuring out why he was in the Room had been overshadowed by her relief when he’d finally leave her alone. Whatever he was doing in there it was bad. And she just _knew_ he was the one behind the cursed necklace and poisoned mead. Malfoy had already proved time and time again he didn’t have a shred of decency in him. Spying would be useless, though.

It wasn’t like they had a way to get in the Room.

“Thanks Dobby, but I don’t need anymore spying. I’m actually here for- er- party food, if that’s alright with you all. I have a list- I don’t mean to be a bother but-“

She couldn’t even finish her sentence before Dobby was whisking it out of her hands and squeaking, “Anything for Harriet Potter ma’am!”

The elves surged towards the parchment and the kitchen descended into organized chaos. She watched in a sort of dazed amazement, letting herself just not think for a moment. So many smells and sights. The elves snapped their fingers and caused onions, garlic, and tomatoes to dance through the air. Vegetables laid flat to allow themselves to be chopped as knives snicked through the air. Dough kneaded itself and spices sprinkled themselves into boiling pots. Harry watched Dobby carefully put his hats aside and begin conducting spoons to mix up batter. She hadn’t looked at the list, but Malfoy was clearly planning one hell of a party. One she had a feeling the teachers wouldn’t sanction with the bottles of Firewhiskey she saw floating among the chaos.

Finally, the room calmed as the finished products all vanished one by one. Harry gave Dobby a surprised look. “You know where to send it?”

“Instructions is on the list, Harriet Potter! We be doing as the list is saying!”

She did remember Malfoy saying something about that. Her stomach squirmed with anxiety, wondering if she could leave now. When she took a few tentative steps towards the door her core still felt normal. A small sigh of relief escaped. _Let this be the last thing today, Merlin _please_._

“Thanks Dobby- everyone. I really appreciate it.”

They returned her smile and she left relieved. At least the _actual_ house-elves were appreciated. She tried to keep the positive mood as she went straight to the library. No point in dwelling on Malfoy. He would act how he would act, the only thing she could control was how carefully she researched life-debts.

_It doesn’t matter what it takes_, she reminded herself as she donned her Invisibility Cloak. There was nothing more important than breaking the debt. Madam Pince was none the wiser as she slipped into the Restricted Section. These books were spotted with age and some were bound in skin, but she left no tome unchecked. There had to be an answer, if not in Light magic then in Dark.

At this point she wasn’t picky on which.

Finally, she found something promising in _Breaking Curses: A Dark Guide_. Her breath sent up small puffs of dust and her wand poured a stream of silver-blue light over the page as she squinted at the cramped words.

_It may be noted that death can be used to break many curses, but one exception are life debts. Killing the person one owes a life debt to is dangerous at best, as it can cause one’s magical core to fracture with their death to fulfill the debt. It is theorized, however, that it may be possible to break a life debt by bringing the person to near death before sparing them. By sparing their life it negates the previous debt owed. While this has never been studied extensively, it is a widely accepted theory among Dark and Grey wizards and witches alike._

Her chest felt like somebody was crushing it, but she had her answer. The thought of nearly killing someone hit her less like a boulder and more like a rock. After what he’d done- _they’d_ done, what would it matter to her? She felt unease. It was stupid, because if anyone deserved that it was Malfoy. Could _she_ do that to somebody, though? There was a reason she preferred to disarm; she didn’t _like_ causing pain. She wasn’t a murderer. She wasn’t _violent_. Each breath was sharp with indecision. She could do this, she _had_ to do this. He deserved it.

Didn’t he?

“Late night reading project?”

Malfoy’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard. She turned to give him a sour look. “Yes. And?”

She regretted returning to the main library now. It wouldn’t have stopped him for long, though. Nothing did. Malfoy would find her anywhere when he wanted something. Remembering what she’d found, a shiver of unease went through her. Could she?

Should she?

He gave a slight smile, silver eyes glimmering in the candlelight. “I thought you could accompany me to the party you so graciously set up. We wouldn’t want our star Gryffindor to miss out on all the fun.”

She felt like she’d swallowed knives. This could be nothing good, it never was with them. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Malfoy smiled.

“Of course, not.”

The Common Room was unusually bright, a wireless sending upbeat swing tunes through the room. She watched Zabini do another round of shots with Crabbe and Goyle. It was weird. The Slytherins laughed and joked and drank like any Gryffindor party goer would. Somehow, she had expected something a lot more cloak and daggers. They almost seemed human. _Almost_.

Harry knew better now.

“Pass me one of those macaroons, Potter.”

It was a lesson in control as she handed the dessert to Malfoy. The stone was hard under her where she kneeled in front of him. Her legs had long gone numb. Holding a platter full of food she wouldn’t get to eat, playing slave to the most conceited prick she’d ever met. _What a night_. All because she couldn’t shred some leaves. In that moment she really did hate herself.

_Why do I fuck _everything_ up?_

She should do better- she needed to be better. How could she defeat a Dark Lord if she couldn’t even brew a potion? _Idiot_. A burst of laughter caused her to jump slightly, yanked from her glum thoughts. Malfoy rolled his eyes as her, but before he could say anything Zabini stumbled over.

“Hey Draco. Hey Potter, having fun?”

“As much as I can,” Harry gritted out, wishing she could hex him.

He smiled and shook his head. “That really is terrible. Hey, Draco- we should give everyone a good time- shouldn’t we?”

For a few seconds Malfoy was silent before he smiled. “Why not? Listen to Blaise, yeah Potter?”

Her mouth was dry as she swallowed. “Uh- okay.”

“Come on Potter, get up. Follow me, I think Vince has just the thing for you.”

Zabini was all smiles as he guided her over with a firm grip. She didn’t know what to say, to do. Nerves crowded her throat as they stopped by Malfoy’s goons. A flush stained both their cheeks and she could smell the alcohol on them. The grip on her arm made her skin crawl. She wanted to scream at him to not touch her, but she couldn’t say anything. There was no _use_ in saying anything.

Arguing always made it worse.

“Here’s Potter!” Zabini said and shoved her forward. “Let’s show her a good time, shall we?”

Crabbe snorted. “Dumb bitch even know how to take a shot?”

“She can learn.”

Harry wasn’t new to alcohol, but she still grimaced at the shot of amber liquid passed to her. It smelled a bit like campfire smoke, but sharper.

_I don’t want to be here._

No choice. Not now. Harry poured it back in one. Warmth bloomed through her chest, surprisingly smooth. Zabini slung an arm around her. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of smoke and whiskey but didn’t cringe away. There was no point.

_Merlin_\- she _hated_ him.

“Not bad Potter! Now, let’s see how many more you can do.”

She stared at him. “You- why?”

He grinned as though the words were an utter pleasure to say. “Because _I said so_. Now drink up. You’re our precious guest and we want you to feel _good_.”

Another shot was shoved into her hand, and then another.

The liquid stopped searing after the third. Harry wasn’t exactly a drinker, so by her fourth she knew she was in trouble. Too warm. Her limbs felt weak and spacey and she nearly knocked a shot out of Goyle’s hand. Things shone a little. Her thoughts had a vague quality to them, she _knew_ she should be more scared than she was. It just seemed so hard to grasp.

“I- I can’t do anymore.” Harry shook her head at the shot offered to her. “M’ way too much.”

“Bit rude to deny a gift, isn’t it Potter?” Crabbe said bluntly, giving her a sneer.

Zabini grinned and pulled her against him again. “No worries, Vince. Potter can make it up to us, right?”

She could feel some panic seep through the alcohol again as Crabbe replied. “Sure she can.”

The music throbbed in tune with her pulse. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to hear what humiliation they would come up with. Every beat of her heart shot straight into her fingertips where she clutched the empty shot glass.

_Please, _please_, leave me _alone_._

Why couldn’t they _fucking_ leave her _alone_?! The spinning in her head made her nearly miss Zabini’s words.

“What do you have in mind?”

Crabbe gave her a slow once over before he smiled nastily. “Why don’t we see if her mouth is good for anything other than bitching?”

_Thump_.

Zabini laughed, pushing Harry towards him. “Not a bad idea. Suck his dick, Potter.”

_Thump_.

Her blood sounded like a river roaring in her ears. The words were wrong, like a funhouse mirror reflection of herself. Harry stared at him. No amount of alcohol could mask the horror. This was- this- she couldn’t think of a thing to say. Her core felt heavy with the debt, but she couldn’t will her legs to move. Goyle took the shot glass and she barely noticed. No way this was reality- this had to be a bad dream. They couldn’t be _that_ fucked up. They _couldn’t_ be.

But they were.

“_Now_, Potter. We don’t have all day.”

_Thump_.

It felt like tearing to kneel in front of Crabbe. Her core throbbed along with her pulse, her mind chaos. Reality was twisted- wrong. _Hell_. In that moment she was sure she could cast an Unforgivable. There was no question of breaking the debt. She felt stupid for having even wondered if she could go that far. They _all_ deserved it.

The rest of the room was paying attention now as she pulled open Crabbe’s robes. His trousers were tented with his erection and she felt ill. Facing Voldemort would be better than this. _Anything_ was better than this. She thought wildly of the wand in her pocket, but it was useless. She had an order.

She didn’t have a _choice_.

“Blaise is right.” Crabbe sneered down at her. “You _do_ look better on your knees. Half-blood bitch.”

There was nothing to say- nothing she _could_ say with the burn in her chest. Her hands shook as she pulled down his trousers and boxers. This was _sick_. How could they all be _okay_ with this?! His dick sprung up when free, already fully hard. It wasn’t incredibly long, but it was thick and she could see the veins this close. Dark curls covered his groin and balls. It was real. Visceral. Not a dream. She didn’t have more than a vague idea of what to do. This wasn’t something she’d ever thought of doing before. Another humiliation, another violation.

She could feel her heartbeat in her throat.

Parkinson let out a squeal of giggles as she tentatively licked his head. Not as awful as she’d expected, but bitter and unpleasant, nonetheless. Hands wound into her hair and pulled her painfully forward.

“Hurry up bitch. Take it. Bite me and you’ll regret it.”

She had no choice but to open her mouth as he pressed forward relentlessly, barely remembering to cover her teeth. He choked her, pressing back until she could feel his dick in her throat. It was nearly impossible to breathe around and she gagged. He let out a small grunt. “Fucking- _Merlin_\- just like that.”

Harry didn’t have time to adjust to the fullness before he began to move. He pushed her head roughly, forcing her nose to meet his groin with every thrust. She couldn’t help but gag and drool around his cock. His head brushed the back of her throat with each stroke. It was beyond disgusting- violating- but it was real. There was nobody coming to save her. She wasn’t going to wake up from this nightmare.

Harry could only focus on surviving. It was breaking, sure- but she’d survived worse. Hadn’t she? At the moment, she couldn’t think of anything. The laughter surrounded her, the whispers, and the knowledge that everyone was watched her humiliation. A spectacle on display. _Entertainment_. It was unbearable, but she had to bear it. She had to take every thrust, every grunt, every insult. She was his to use, and he used her thoroughly.

It was the only thing she _could_ do.

“_Merlin_\- Potter- you take it so fucking _good_.“

Her pride lay in ruins around her, what little she’d preserved. The taste of his cock as he choked her with it was never going to leave her. Part of her was glad she was drunk, it was easier to relax her mouth and throat and just take it then. Tears sent hot tracks down her cold cheeks, uncaring of who saw. _Horrible_. She could kill them- she wanted to- to-

To _disappear_.

“Fucking- slut- _fuck_!”

Crabbe pushed himself so deep she couldn’t breathe against his pubes. He let out a long groan and hot liquid filled her throat. Cum threatened to choke her as she gagged and shook, trying to swallow what she could. Her head started to go tingly, panic soaring. Finally, he relented. She gave a harsh gasp as he pulled out with a wet sound. Dull pains radiated through her jaw and her lips felt swollen. Harry wiped at the drool on her chin, unable to meet his eyes. Marcus Flint wolf whistled.

“Not bad Potter,” Crabbe said, catching his breath while he gave her a leering smile. “Never though you’d be so good at sucking dick.”

She felt raw, used. There was nothing to say. Laughter and insults crashed around her. Malfoy’s voice broke through the noise. Amused. “Not a bad show Vince. Why don’t you thank him Potter? Manners are important in our House.”

_I’ll kill you, I’ll fucking _kill you_-!_

Harry took a shaky breath. Every time she swallowed, she could taste Crabbe. She wanted nothing more than to just jump into a vat of acid. Her head was spinning from the booze and ached where he’d pulled at her hair. She’d been used. _Violated_. It was _disgusting_\- she couldn’t do this- she _couldn’t_-!

She _had_ to.

Her voice felt like gravel. The words were breaking. “Thank you.”

More words. More laughter. More insults.

She had never hated anyone more in that moment. All of them were monsters- twisted, sick, _abominations_. There was no way she could survive a year of this. She couldn’t survive a _month_ of this. Her chest felt tight and she wanted so badly to hurl. It hit her like a sucker punch- she had Crabbe’s cum in her stomach. Oh- _Merlin_. The dizziness overwhelmed her, stomach heaving. For a moment she was certain she was going to puke, but then Zabini’s voice cut through her panic.

“You think Potter could go for Round Two, Draco?”

Malfoy smirked. “Go ahead. She’ll do whatever you say.”

It felt like being choked slowly. This was _too_ _much_. They couldn’t- how could they _do_ this?! They were _sick_. Harry could feel her pulse in her lips, the tracks of tears that had dried on her face. The ache in her jaw. _Used_. And they wanted to use her again. Her hand twitched towards her pocket and in that moment, she could have cast the Cruciatus Curse. It felt like being made of fire. Like dying. Every breath was hatred as Zabini leered down at her.

“Go on Potter. Suck my dick. I want some _enthusiasm_. We’ve been treating you so _kindly_, after all.”

_Thump_.

Every heartbeat sounded like waves crashing. She swallowed once, twice. A nightmare. More than a nightmare, a night _terror_. Her chest felt like it would splinter under the weight. Zabini was bigger than Crabbe when she pulled his pants down, dark and flooded with blood. Straining towards her like it had a mind of its own. Laughter and jeering insults that she couldn’t pay attention to.

_Thump_.

“That’s it- come on.”

Her lips stretched over his head, mindful to cover her teeth with her tongue. She coughed a bit as he jerked his hips forwards, letting out a small groan. It was disgusting. _She_ was disgusting as she swallowed him right down to the root. Maybe it was easier after Crabbe, maybe it was the alcohol. It didn’t matter. Zabini didn’t force her like Crabbe had, he made her to do most of the work.

“Just like that Potter, _fuck_-“ His breaths came in harsh pants.

_Thump_.

There was humiliation, and then there was _this_. Harry tried to think of her revenge- _anything_ to keep her mind off it. It was useless. There was nothing but the heavy slide of his cock against her tongue, brushing the back of her throat, struggling not to gag. Spit sloppily dripping down her chin. The snickers and whispers and speculation. Cold stone under her knees. Hot blood flushing her cheeks. The ache in her jaw and the shattering that _wouldn’t stop_. Nothing but entertainment. She pumped what she couldn’t fit in her mouth, feeling Zabini’s hands twist in her curls.

_Thump_.

“Oh- _fuck_\- so _good_-“

It was a relief when he finally shoved himself as deep as he could go, choking her as he came. She was prepared this time, but still sputtered trying to swallow his cum. She just wanted it to be over. Her head reeled, thoughts scattered. There was nothing she wanted more than to curl up in bed, but at the same time she’d give anything to wrap her hands around Malfoy’s throat. This was _his_ fault. Zabini said something to her as he tucked his dick back in his pants, but she wasn’t listening. She just kneeled there, feeling the glass raining down around her.

_Used_.

“My turn, next,” Nott said, stepping forward to give Harry a sneer. “Open wide, half-blood.”

_Thump_.

Harry felt so _tired_. She _wanted_ to scream, cry, smash things- _kill_ _someone_. But she _couldn’t_. It hurt. It was breaking- it was- There was no choice. Not now. This was Malfoy’s game now, and she had to play by his rules. An amusement for Slytherin House. Nott insulted her as he pulled out his cock and jerked her head forward. It didn’t matter. She had to survive, to _endure_. The breaking didn’t matter, anything could be repaired in the wizarding world. _Anything_. It didn’t matter.

_Thump_.

She opened her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Things are definitely escalating. Let me know what you thought, good or bad I'm all ears. Feel free to drop a suggestion for future fics, I'm always looking for inspiration. This account is intended for dark and twisted fics, no need to be shy.


	3. Picture Perfect Misery

The dormitory was dark when she got back.

For a moment Harry stood in the doorway and just watched the sleeping form of her best friend. She was numb. Her chest tightened and she couldn’t breathe. _Too much_. She stumbled to the washroom, head spinning. Her stomach heaved with the knowledge of what she’d swallowed, and she retched, gripping the toilet for dear life. Everything came out. Eventually she was left dry heaving, shaking. It reeked of alcohol.

She felt hollow.

Her hands shook as she turned the showers on. There weren’t words. Water poured down her skin, soap scrubbed in sharp angry motions. It didn’t help any. She felt dirty, used. _Disgusting_. Crabbe, Zabini, Nott, Goyle, even Flint. Only Malfoy and Parkinson hadn’t had a turn, and she had a feeling Parkinson’s wasn’t from a lack of hatred. She didn’t understand Malfoy’s game when he so obviously hated her. There wasn’t a way to describe how much she loathed them. How tired she was. The warm water didn’t make her feel any less cold. It was like being turned to ice. No amount of cleaning charms could make her feel any less disgusting.

Harry’s eyes were flat as she stared at them in the mirror. Less emeralds and more jade. _Jaded_. Her lips were flushed, and she could feel a pain radiating every time she moved her jaw. For a second she touched the soft skin. They were warm and she felt them tremble as the first tears fell. Maybe it was weak. Voldemort had taken more than this- she couldn’t break over _this_\- She should be _better_ than this. _Stronger_ than this.

It didn’t stop her from feeling broken.

The air smelled like summer.

Harry stared up at the blue of the sky, her eyes watering slightly at the pure intensity of the colour. She breathed in. She breathed out. Out by the Forbidden Forest she could finally feel the air in her lungs. The book on her lap was a comforting weight, the title aged and curling. _Spells of a Darker Nature _by Cynthia Black, a book on bewitching, but more importantly on silencing and binding. Some were horrible, some weren’t. Any could be used on Malfoy. He couldn’t be allowed to order her to stop. If ordered her to stop trying to break the debt- she had to still her shaking hands.

“You have an awful lot of Wrackspurts around you today, Harry.”

Harry looked at Luna, giving her a mechanical smile. “Is that so?”

The Ravenclaw girl was a comforting sight, butterbeer cork necklace and all. Harry shifted uneasily at look Luna gave her, silvery eyes unsettling with their prominent yet dreamy appearance. So different from Malfoy’s it was hard to believe they were a similar colour.

Luna sat down beside her, also resting her back against the towering tree trunk. “Do you know why Wrackspurts are attracted to witches or wizards?”

Harry knew she should, Luna had certainly told her before, but she was far too tired to come up with the memory. What did it matter? Despite that, she figured honesty couldn’t hurt. “No.”

“They’re attracted to enchantments and cloudy minded witches or wizards.” There was silence for a long moment and then she sighed.

“Ginny is worried about you.”

Harry shifted a bit, uncomfortable. “Is that so?”

“Everyone is worried about you, you know. Ginny says you’ve been sitting out of practices.”

She shrugged. “I’m not playing Seeker, I don’t need to be involved. Besides, the more practice Ginny gets the closer we get to the Cup.”

For a long moment there was silence. Harry took the chance to slow the beating of her heart. There was no point in getting bent out of shape over the detention, it was already set in stone.

“I miss the DA.”

“So do I.” Harry stared down at the book in her lap. She would give anything to just start this year over. Somehow, she missed living under Umbridge’s reign, at least back then she was free. Back then she had the DA to keep her busy- back then Sirius was still alive.

How could things fall apart so quickly?

“We’ll always be there, one coin twist away.” Luna was staring at her now, Harry could feel it. “If you need help you can call on us.”

It was sweet, but Harry knew she couldn’t. Not under Malfoy’s control. She swallowed hard and managed a smile. “Thank you, Luna.”

“You’re welcome.”

The blonde girl didn’t speak again, simply a presence beside Harry as she read. It was comforting. Harry wished she could tell her what was going on. Hermione and Ron were asking more questions with her skipping meals to ‘study.’ It physically hurt holding in the words she wanted to scream. But she had to. She sighed and turned the page.

Malfoy was never alone.

Harry stared at the little dot, watching its progress and the curling script of ‘Draco Malfoy.’ The Marauder’s map was a labyrinth of living ink, a map to every nook and cranny in Hogwarts. Or at least all the ones her father and his friends had found. It was beautiful. When she’d first learned its origins, she used to spend hours pouring over it, just imagining what the Marauders got up to. Now she sat hunched over it, curtains drawn on her bed reading by wandlight. Eyes shadowed, stomach grumbling. Waiting.

Watching.

It felt like a layer of ice covering her as she thought about the fact that she was planning to attack another student. She was going to cause harm, serious harm. Part of her wondered what her parents and Sirius would think. The rest didn’t care. Malfoy needed to suffer, but most of all, she needed to escape. Her knuckles were white where they gripped the parchment. She felt disgusting.

Learning Malfoy was a gradual process like studying a Quidditch play. She knew the hour he got up, how much time he spent in the showers. Malfoy always went to bed early. His mother sent him regular owls which he replied to just as regularly. He liked to walk around the castle in the evenings with Crabbe and Goyle on his tail. Always an entourage, never alone. It made her sick with panic to think she might not get him alone. She forced herself to stay calm.

There would be no second chances, no room for error. One shot. If Malfoy could order her to stop it was over. She wouldn’t let that be an option, there was no living with the life debt. It wouldn’t _be _a life, not a worthwhile one.

The potion gurgled once before it settled.

Harry let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. It was finally done. The liquid was almost clear, and she knew once it set fully it would look no different from water. It needed to. Crabbe and Goyle could suspect nothing. For a moment she gave the ghost of a smile at the memory of spiking cakes in their second year, but it quickly slipped away. There was nothing amusing about this situation. Crabbe and Goyle weren’t innocent childhood bullies anymore. She didn’t have friends to rely on this time. And the price of failure- her stomach wanted to heave at the thought.

She was careful to tidy up the abandoned classroom, hiding the cauldron once again in a cobwebbed cabinet. No signs of her could be left behind. Two days and she could set her plans into motion. Two days and she’d be free. She had to remind herself to breathe under the crushing weight. Two days and nothing could go wrong. The door clicked shut behind her and she took a moment to compose herself as she made her way back to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione would worry if she looked flustered.

“Hey, Potty.”

_Go away._

Harry slowed to a stop, wishing she had made it just a couple more corridors. The Fat Lady would have kept her out. “Yes?”

The corridor was empty around them. Parkinson’s hair seemed extra dark and glossy in the sunlight pouring through the windows. Beautiful. Twisted. Harry had always disliked her, but now she hated her. The weight of her wand in her pocket made her hand itch, but she knew there was no point.

“Draco said I could borrow you for a little fun. Come on, I’m not in the mood for whining.” Parkinson gave her a poisonously sweet smile.

_Great._

Harry fell into step beside her, not bothering to argue with the Slytherin girl. Parkinson didn't waste breath making small talk. She led Harry through the halls, down into the bowels of the castle. Torchlight made the rubies at her ears glitter like drops of blood. The echo of their footsteps was an ominous soundtrack to the steady tightening of Harry’s stomach. She didn’t want to know what Parkinson had in mind. She was incapable of anything good.

The classroom Parkinson brought her to was almost completely empty. Only a circular table and two chairs made up the room. There was a tea service set up and a candle cast a warm glow over the rose-painted porcelain. Harry stopped in the doorway, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

“What is this? What’s going on?”

Parkinson smiled and sat down at the table. “Consider it some _girl time_. I wanted to talk to you. Have a seat.”

Harry took the other chair cautiously. “About?”

She took her time to answer, picking up the kettle and pouring herself a cup. When she dropped in two sugar cubes, the plops were extra loud in the silent classroom. The scrape of the spoon as she stirred only wound Harry’s nerves tighter. Her knuckles were white where they gripped her robes.

“About _you_.” Parkinson smiled and took a sip of her tea. “Our new little _celebrity_ in Slytherin House. Everyone’s talking about you, you know, even if Draco had them _swear_ to keep it out of teacher’s ears.”

She tried to keep her tone neutral. “And?”

“And isn’t it _exciting_?” Parkinson grinned at the look on her face. “Oh _come_ _on_, you don’t enjoy the attention even a _little_? Pity.”

She took another sip of her tea, taking a moment to savor it before continuing. “I think it’s _lovely_. Do you have any idea how much I hate you?”

Harry’s throat felt dry. Parkinson didn’t look amused anymore, her eyes flat with anger. She didn’t know how to respond. When the Slytherin girl smiled again it looked more like a snarl.

“_Precious_ Potter,” she crooned. “Precious, _perfect_ Gryffindor Potter. Always the teacher’s favorite, always getting away with anything you like. Special from birth.”

“Because a mad-man tried to kill me!” Harry burst out. “That’s not a- not a _good_ thing!”

Parkinson cocked her head. “So? It doesn’t change the way the world fawns over you. The Ministry is always ready to lick your boots. If it wasn’t for you the Dark Lord would have won by now. My father could stop fighting, mother could-“

She cut off so suddenly Harry glanced behind herself. Nothing was there. Parkinson’s expression was hard to read when she looked back, but Harry could at least pick out the hatred. “Do you have any idea what Azkaban did to my father?” she asked, her voice near a whisper.

“Azkaban?” Harry stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

Parkinson laughed, the sound near hysterical. “Oh- oh _of course_ you don’t know. Because why would Precious Potter _ever_ need to know the names of the _filthy_ Death Eaters she gets sent to prison?”

Harry didn’t know what to say. If she was attacked, she would defend herself. She had a sinking feeling Parkinson’s father may have been one of the ones arrested in the Department of Mysteries. It always came back to the war. _Always_.

“You’re horrible, you know that?” Parkinson said, watching her coldly. “If you weren’t alive, this war would be over. If you weren’t here my family wouldn’t have to suffer.”

There was nothing to say.

Parkinson sipped her tea. “I wish I could order you to send yourself to the Dark Lord. There would be _nothing_ more satisfying.”

She sighed and placed her cup down. For a moment there was silence, the classroom dark around them with their lone candle. The stillness made Harry’s unease only mount.

“I’ll take my revenge in any way I can.” She smiled. “And that means ruining your pride.”

Harry just gave her a tired look. What could she say? Nothing would make this better, Parkinson wasn’t going to want an apology. She wasn’t inclined to give one anyways. Two more days.

Two more days and she’d be free.

“Strip. _Now_.”

Harry didn’t have a choice with the burn in her core. Stiff, unwilling motions until she was left bare to the cool dungeon air. She hated the feeling of Parkinson’s eyes on her. Her body had never been a point of pride and she flinched as the Slytherin girl raised a camera. A familiar camera, if she wasn’t mistaken.  
  
“Collin Creepy was kind enough to donate this,” Parkinson said. “I thought we could get some glamour shots to spread around. I know the Dark Lord has been pressing Draco for something to ruin your image with.”

She swallowed hard. “You- you’re just doing this for your own perverted pleasure.”

Parkinson shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Either way, on your knees Potter.”

Harry did as told and gave the girl an unimpressed look. Two days. She wouldn’t break in _two days_. There would be an end to this, and she’d finally be free. Her justice would be served tenfold. Parkinson’s eyes roaming her body was unimportant at the end of the day. A flash lit the room and Parkinson smiled from behind the raised camera. It made her dizzy with hatred, but she couldn’t do anything.

The fact that _Voldemort_ would have access to naked pictures of her made her want to crawl out of her skin.

“Raise your chin, Potter.”

When Harry obeyed Parkinson flicked her wand and whispered a spell. A heavy weight settled around her neck, cold and sharp where it pressed into her skin. Silver glittered in a chain leading to Parkinson’s hand and Harry raised her own to feel thick metal. Another spell spoken and she looked up to see Parkinson holding up a silver hand mirror. The reflection of herself was nauseating, almost surreal with the heavy silver collar studded in emeralds. They brought out her eyes, brilliant green and full of discomfort behind her glasses.

_Sickening_.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Parkinson laughed, delighted. “Why not cover the perfect little hero in the enemy’s colours? After all, you’re our new _plaything_. Payback for everything you’ve done to us. To _me_.”

“If this helps you sleep at night, I suppose.”

Parkinson’s smile glittered. “Oh, it _will_.”

Harry didn’t bother replying. No point in giving her the satisfaction.

It was a certain kind of bitter. A certain kind of shame. Parkinson ordered her to balance on the balls of her feet, legs spread. Her hands ached with the urge to go for her wand. She wanted to shout, fight- _anything_.

No choice. There never was.

“Spread them with your hand, we want all your _admirers_ to get a _good_ look.”

Flash after flash as she spread herself, feeling cold air against the exposed skin. It was disgusting, humiliating, the weight of the embarrassment felt like it was crushing her. Warm skin, no eye contact. Parkinson had her try various positions, some showing off her breasts, others her ass or pussy. Harry tried to keep it mechanical. This was _nothing_\- but it was. It was everything. It was humiliating and _degrading_, and she wanted to _kill_ _her_.

She wanted to kill someone. Honestly and truly and that hit her like a boulder. If there wasn’t a life debt she would gladly wrap her hands around Parkinson’s neck. _How did I get here?_ It was a numb, fracturing sort of thought. Another innocence lost. How had her reality become so wrong?

The door creaked open.

Harry glanced towards the sound, tensing as Parkinson gave an excited giggle. “Our help is here Potter!”

Marcus Flint entered the room, his height making her stomach clench with unease. He leered at her. _Troll-faced monster_. She glared back at him but didn’t leave the pose Parkinson had ordered her into. She _couldn’t_. Her core was a constant burn, the urge barely being kept in check. It was simpler than some things Parkinson had made her do, but she still felt dizzy with anger and embarrassment as Flint whistled lowly.

“Nice view, Potter. Draco really okayed this, Pans?”

Her hands twitched slightly where they were spreading her cheeks apart. She wanted to kill him. Fucking Merlin’s _balls_\- she wanted to _kill_ _him_. Bent over, ass exposed for the camera. Neck heavy with the weight of the collar. It was _too_ _much_\- but that didn’t matter.

Two weeks ago, it was too much. How _much_ it was _clearly_ didn’t matter. This was life by Draco’s rules now, not her own. There weren’t choices.

Only orders.

“Get on your knees Potter.” Parkinson rolled her eyes at Flint. “_Of_ _course_, I got Draco’s permission. You know how he gets about the debt.”

Harry winced as her sore knees touched stone once again. _Two_ _days_, she was _so_ fucking _close_\- two _fucking_ days. The words repeated over and over in her head, but she couldn’t escape the now. There was no ignoring the delighted look Flint gave her.

“Cheers, Pans. Not bad.”

“Don’t get too excited yet.” Parkinson gave him a pointed look. “Strip. We want your Mark and assets all visible. Wouldn’t want Potter to feel too conscious being the only naked one, would we?”

Flint smirked at her, shucking off his clothes. “Just admit you wanted to see me naked. No need to be shy.”

“Ooh _bold_. How _amazing_, my _poor_ little _heart_, however shall I _live_ with such a _savvy_ and _handsome_ young man at my attention?” She shook her head and lost the mocking girly voice. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“Bitch.” Flint kicked off his socks and walked over to Harry, fully nude. It did nothing for her nerves to realize he was already half hard. “Don’t you have pictures to take? I’m charging by the minute, you know.”

“_Ooh_, big man with the price hike.” She snorted and raised the camera. “Okay, first shot let’s get something nice showing who Potter bends to now. Grab her hair, make sure your Mark is showing. Potter suck his dick. I want _deep-throat_. We all know you’re good for it.”

Harry winced as Flint twisted a meaty hand into her hair. His prick was rapidly hardening while he gave it a couple strokes and she swallowed hard. He gave the chain a tug and grinned at her. Her heart was pounding hard enough she was surprised her rib cage wasn’t rattling with the force. Flint guided her head forward, pressing his dick toward her relentlessly. Harry hesitated just a fraction of a second and could feel her core flare. She _wanted_ to push against it. She _couldn’t_. Her lips opened and the fullness of his cock pressed in. Suffocating. _Disgusting_. The flash of lights made the backs of her eyelids glow red.

“Open your eyes, Potter. I want those authentic greens.”

Seeing it made it worse. Flash after flash. Flint’s grunts and Parkinson’s giggles as he thrust into her mouth, hand anchoring her in place. She tried to breathe through her nose, tried to ignore him. It was useless. It was _always_ fucking useless. Her mouth was forced to take, and he was more than happy to give. Over and over, thrust after thrust. Gagging on the fullness when he’d choke her with it, sneering.

“Feels good, Potter?”

Parkinson gave insults and jeering jabs, but Harry tried to drown her out. The flash of light was seared into her memory. She felt ill with the thought of what the pictures would be used for. Two days felt more like two years. Her wand remained in her robes, not an option, mocking in its uselessness. She wanted to choke on the helplessness, the rage. The shame. There was nowhere to hide from Parkinson’s camera. Her eyes prickled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. Not now.

It was a relief when he pulled out.

“Cum on her face. And don’t wipe it off, Potter. I need _plenty_ of pictures.”

He pumped his cock once, twice. Harry closed her eyes as he came, the warm liquid dripping down her cheeks and chin where it landed. She clamped her lips together tightly, unwilling to let the wetness seep between them. _Disgusting_. Flash, flash, flash, Parkinson didn’t waste a moment. Her face felt hot enough to burn. Two days. She _had_ to endure this.

“Open your eyes Potter, look at me. Hold her hair, Mark visible.”

Another painful grip and she opened her eyes. Almost immediately she was blinded by a flash. Parkinson gave a pleased giggle as she snapped away. “_Wonderful_, Potty. The Dark Lord will _love_ these.”

_I hate you_.

The words sat like a flame in her chest. Picture after picture she could feel it burn. Pose after pose, flash after flash. Any privacy carefully and delicately stripped away. It was violating- _repulsive_. Harry could have choked on the hatred, but that didn’t matter.

Only the next order did.

Finally, Parkinson lowered the camera and gave a satisfied smile. “Good work, Potter! You’ve given me _plenty_ of material.”

“Can I leave now?” Harry asked dully.

The cum was beginning to dry on her face and she felt achingly tired. Two more days felt so far away, she just wanted to head to bed. Dinner could be skipped, she didn’t have the appetite.

“Sure. No doubt your little friends must be worried. Oh, and Potter?” Her smile was sharp. “If anyone asks any questions, you _enthusiastically_ wanted to do this.”

Harry gritted her teeth. No point in arguing, but _Merlin_-

She wished she could.

When she arrived back at Gryffindor Tower, Hermione was standing outside the portrait hole. Her face felt raw from the force of the Cleaning Charm she’d used. For a moment she slowed, trying to fully compose herself. Nobody could suspect what had happened- she couldn’t bear the thought of having to say she _wanted_ to do it. If she focused on what would happen to the pictures, she’d go insane.

_Just breathe._

“Harry!” Hermione pulled her into a hug. “I was worried about you- where were you?”

Her skin crawled and she just wanted to be alone, but she managed to return the hug. “Studying.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Hermione pulled back, brows knitted in concern. “Do you need help with anything?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to decline, but then she paused. She could use a human practice target, and Malfoy hadn’t forbidden practicing magic. “Um- yeah, actually. I’ve got some spells to practice from, er- Dumbledore, and I could use a partner. They’re not dangerous,” she added quickly. “Just useful for protecting myself.”

“You’ve talked to Dumbledore?” Hermione raised her brows. “I thought you haven’t had lessons since you got him Slughorn’s memory.”

Harry shifted uneasily at the piercing look Hermione gave her. “Er- no. But he did give me books to read up on in our last lessons. I’ve been poking away at them. No doubt we’ll be looking for You-Know-What soon. I should be as practiced as I can get.”

The bushy haired girl deflated a bit. “Oh- alright. Well then, yes, of course I’ll help you Harry. You only had to ask.”

“Thanks ‘Mione.” She smiled, barely genuine after the hellish day she’d had.

It faded quickly. The memories were just there, waiting under the surface every time she relaxed her guard. Shameful. Pathetic. _Vile_. She felt sick to her stomach. Two more days and it would finally be over- it _had_ to be over.

The only other option was unbearable.

“Take a seat, Potter.”

Harry did her best to not look mutinous as she sat down. Professor Snape’s office was mostly unchanged, only a few curse diagrams indicating his new position. Plenty of the half-dissected floating organs in yellow and green liquids she remembered so _fondly_. A familiar prison for detention, but this time it was far more suffocating. Punishment for what she did to Malfoy. A while ago she may have agreed she deserved it. The memory of his bleeding form still made her vaguely sick to her stomach. But not anymore. Her pity for Draco Malfoy had long dried up.

It was _his_ fault she was missing the match. Just another way for Malfoy to fuck up her life. _Wonderful._ As if letting his friends- _do_ _things_, wasn’t enough. She knew the word she should really use for it, but it sat heavy and ugly in her mind. Maybe it was childish, but she didn’t want to put it into words. If she just- if she just _kept_ _going_, this would all be over. Tomorrow the potion would be finished.

She would be free.

Harry exhaled slowly, carefully guiding her thoughts away from that avenue. She thought of Ron’s expression and Ginny’s determination. He had been nervous, but she knew he had it in him. They could do it. She believed in them, she _did_, but-

_I should be out there with them_.

The last game of the season, everything was riding on this. She should be there making sure her carefully constructed plays were properly executed. Sure, they weren’t a dream team, but everyone had improved so much, even Peakes and Coote. They were capable. Somehow it felt weird to be worried about Quidditch when her life was down the drain, but she _had_ to care about it. If she didn’t have _one_ good normal thing- she’d go insane. Flying was freedom, and she had precious little of that these days.

“You will not be looking through records this evening.”

Harry blinked, coming out of her inner musings. “Um- then what will I be doing? Sir.”

Snape spent a long moment just staring at her. She fidgeted. His eyes were so dark sometimes she felt like she could fall down them and never get out. Like an endless well, or a black hole. Not exciting or exhilarating. _Terrifying_. Harsh, pale features, thin lips, lank hair. The dungeon-bat Professor.

“How have you been dealing with the life debt with Malfoy?”

_Thump_.

She swallowed hard. “I’ve been dealing with it. _Sir_.”

He gave her another searching look. “Is that so.”

It was a statement, not a question. Her mouth felt dry. He had direct access to Voldemort- he could know any number of things. The rushing in her ears nearly drowned out his next words.

“I’ve been given reason to believe this debt is being . . . abused.”

She stared at him. _No shit_. The words stuck in her throat however, the pressure on her core a reminder of the debt. Of Malfoy’s power. Her nails cut into her palms, clenched tight enough she felt like her bones would snap. “I see.”

“Mr. Weasley spoke with me.” He smirked slightly at the surprised look she gave him. “Yes, believe it or not, Weasley was concerned enough about you to put aside his animosity with me. Miss Granger as well. They offered _enlightenment_ on your . . . _situation_, when asked.”

Her lungs felt like they were being crushed by the tangle of emotion she felt. “I- I see.”

Snape gave her a piercing look. “Interesting how tight-lipped you’ve become, Potter. One would think you’d be the first to incriminate your once nemesis. Would you like to hear my suspicions on the reason?”

_Thump_.

The words were stuck.

“I think it’s likely Mr. Malfoy used his new ability to order you around as a way to silence you. No decent Slytherin would be stupid enough to allow their victim to talk.” He leaned forward, tone deepening in a way that sent nervous skitters down her spine. “A victim, I have good reason to believe, Mr. Malfoy has made of you.”

_Thump_.

“There are laws put in place to prevent situations like these. Laws the Dark Lord and his ilk would gladly see abolished.”

It hurt to speak around the burn in her core. She picked through her words carefully. “How can somebody get help if they can’t communicate, they need it, sir?”

His gaze burned. “They take it when others notice and offer.”

_Thump_.

It was surreal. _Snape_ was offering help. _Snape_ was the one to put all the pieces together. Her chest felt like it was being wound up like a toy. Too many emotions, not enough names for them. She wanted to hate him, lash out, blame him as head of the House that was causing her so much pain. It would be easier.

She couldn’t.

“Okay.”

The word was tiny, rusted and barely there. Snape gave her a look she didn’t understand. There was a softness to his eyes that made her wonder if he actually _was_ disgusted by what the Slytherins were doing. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but she had expected him to side with them. He inclined his head slightly.

“I will be making Dumbledore aware of this situation. The evidence I’ve received gives a . . . _compelling_ case.”

“Why haven’t you told him already?” She did her best to not sound accusatory. The last thing she needed to do was piss him off. No doubt he’d be smart enough to think of ordering her to stop trying to break the debt. If he sided with Malfoy- her stomach clenched.

“I only just learned of it.” He gave her a considering look. “And I wanted to see what you would say.”

She wasn’t sure how that made her feel.

When she didn’t say anything, Snape sighed. For a moment she couldn’t place the expression on his face. “For what it’s worth Potter-“

He broke off, discomfort twisting his features. “I do not condone what my Slytherins have done. They have shown a disgusting depth I shudder to see. You have my deepest apologies as Head of their House.”

It felt like stepping into another reality, but it was what it was. Maybe he even meant it. She took a steadying breath.

“Thank you, sir.”

For a moment there was an uncomfortable silence. Snape broke it. “Perhaps you could spend the rest of your detention working on your homework. If my class is any indication, it has suffered, understandably, due to recent events.”

It was surreal to hear _Snape_ saying that, but Harry nodded all the same.

When she arrived back at Gryffindor Tower she paused outside the Fat Lady for a moment. Her heart was going a bit too fast, hands slick. He knew. He said he would help her, but he knew. And no matter what he said, at the end of the day he was still _Snape_. She didn’t want to know who else Voldemort had made aware of the pictures. It was like standing beneath the ocean, every ounce of weight crushing down on her. She couldn’t breathe.

“Well? Are you going to say the password, or just stare at me all day?”

Harry swallowed hard.

“Ursa Majora.”

The portrait swung open. Immediately she was hit with a wall of noise. Dazed, Harry reached for her wand. She caught sight of Ron just before he rammed into her and picked her off her feet with his hug.

“WE WON! HARRY! WE WON!”

Memories slammed into her like a Bludger. _The match_. For a second she was frozen, stuck between two wildly different thought patterns. It almost hurt to arrange her expression into the one she knew she should have. _Breathe_. She returned the hug, grinning as he placed her down to beam at her. “Seriously?! That’s amazing! What happened? Did Ginny get the Snitch?”

“Damn right she got the Snitch! You should have seen Malfoy’s face, he looked like he could have spit fire!”

Ginny pushed through the crowd and then Harry was pulled into a lemon-scented hug. She could breathe for a moment, buried in soft ginger hair, before Ginny pulled back to beam at her. There was something in her eyes, but she blinked and the glitter was gone.

“What happened?” Harry asked, smiling past the nervous skitter in her guts.

“Malfoy being Malfoy lost himself the match, of course.” Ginny rolled her eyes before her expression turned concerned. “Come on, try some of the pastries the elves brought. You didn’t eat much at lunch.”

“Neither did Ron.” Harry felt obligated to point out.

Ron appeared beside her again, ushering her towards the buffet table that had been set up. “Yeah, but I’ve also been stuffing my face since we got back. Eat up. You won’t believe the save I got- did anyone tell you yet?”

“She’s been here for two seconds, Ron.”

Harry smiled and took the cinnamon bun Ginny shoved into her hands. _Snape_ _knows_. It was a slow suffocation as she listened to a spirited retelling of the games. _Snape_ _knows_. He’d seen the pictures. There was no telling who else had. Her hands shook clasped around a butterbeer. He said he’d help, but she couldn’t trust him. Adults had rarely made things better in her life, and the only ones who had were gone or dead. She was alone.

She would finish this alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the third chapter! Things are definitely coming to a head. The fourth and final chapter will be up for your viewing leisure tomorrow. Feel free to drop me a comment letting me know what you did or didn't like. I'm always open to feedback, good or bad. If you're not feeling chatty a kudo or bookmark is also appreciated. And don't feel shy about dropping suggestions for future fics. I'm always looking for inspiration, this account is intended for Dark fics.


	4. Breathless

Crystal clear. Not a single bubble disturbed the solution. Harry held her breath as she ladled some into a flask. The dosage, if she’d done her research correctly, meant a shot each would be more than enough. The vials clinked in her pockets as she made her way down to the ground hall. The sun was setting on Hogwarts, the lake glittering like crushed bronze. Harry’s footsteps were a constant grounding drum beat against the flagstone.

Today would be it. One shot.

She felt like she’d swallowed the Snitch, _really_ swallowed it, and couldn’t cough it out. Hermione had helped her practice the spells one last time. She had seemed oddly quiet, maybe she was concerned. It didn’t matter. Harry stopped in an abandoned classroom and made sure it was empty before she locked and warded the door.

“Dobby?”

Immediately a crack rang through the room. The light coming through the windows washed the tiny elf in amber. “Misses Harriet Potter be calling Dobby! Dobby is beyond honoured! What is Harriet Potter be needing?”

“Er-“ She hesitated a moment before diving in. “I need you to put something in another student’s food. Two students, actually. It won’t hurt them, at least not seriously.”

Dobby blinked at her with wide green eyes. “Harriet Potter is wanting Dobby to harm another student?”

Harry swallowed hard. “N- no. Just get them out of the way for a while. It’s really important to me. More important than anything.”

The little elf wrung his hands, beginning to sway back and forth. “Hogwarts elves be taking oaths to not harm students, Harriet Potter. Dobby would be in terrible trouble.”

Her stomach sank.

“Oh. I’m sorry- I- I didn’t know. Forget I asked.”

Dobby’s face scrunched up and he let out a wail, flinging himself to the ground. “Dobby is sorry Misses! Dobby is a horrible horrible elf! Dobby will be punishing himself, Dobby-“

“Don’t hurt yourself,” she said. It was hard to speak past the crushing in her chest. “It’s not your fault. I would be more upset if you hurt yourself.”

“Dobby is sorry Misses! So sorry!”

She helped him up, handing him a hat that’d gone flying when he’d thrown himself. “Thanks anyways, Dobby. Just- don’t tell anyone I asked, okay?”

He gave her a watery smile. “Dobby will take this secret to his grave Harriet Potter Misses! Nobody will ever know- or Dobby isn’t a free elf!”

He was so devoted, she hadn’t expected him to say no. _Stupid_. Harry managed a weak smile. “Thanks Dobby. Er- that’s all I needed to ask you.”

Dobby gave her one last watery smile and a crack echoed through the room. She was left alone, the weight of reality suffocating her.

_Stupid_.

Her plan wouldn’t work. It was a terrible feeling, like the stone was giving out under her. For a moment she couldn’t breathe with the panic and slid to her knees. Spinning around and around without moving. Dizzy. There had to be another option- this _couldn’t_ go wrong. She _couldn’t_ face a whole year of this- her heart squeezed like a giant was gripping it. She tried to clamp down on the whirling, still herself. Coming undone now would solve nothing.

_Breathe_.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she could catch her breath. Dobby wasn’t the only option. It made her feel disgusting to even think of speaking to the reason for Sirius’ death, but she had to. Harry sucked in fortifying gasp after fortifying gasp until she could stand again. It would be okay. There were still options. This wasn’t the end, just a setback.

“Kreacher!”

A crack split the silence again, bringing the wizened elf. He blinked up at Harry, mouth pulled into a sneer. “The half-blood is calling Kreacher. But Kreacher knows, oh Kreacher knows of the things she’s done. A harlot if Kreacher has ever seen one. Oh if Kreacher’s poor Mistress only _knew_ of the shame-“

“_Shut up_.”

Her heart pumped red hot anger through her, memories of Grimmauld Place swarming back. The same sneering taunts that Sirius hated so much- _he_ was the reason Sirius was gone. At least one of them. She tried to steady her voice. “What are you talking about?”

He rubbed one of his bat-like ears, revealing yellowed teeth in a smile. “All the elves be knowing of the nasty things the half-blood has been up to. Oh they know, but like smart elves they not be telling. Noble Master Malfoy, not tainting his blood by consorting with such filth-“

“_Enough_.”

She took a moment to clamp down on her emotions. The rage made it hard to breathe, but she couldn’t take it out on him. He was a wretched little creature, but she _couldn’t_. Even the _elves_ knew. It was made her want to peel her skin off. When she was sure her voice wouldn’t crack, she spoke again.

“I need you to do something and you need to do it without alerting anyone or letting anyone know you’ve done it.” Harry took a quick breath, nerves dancing under her skin as she pulled out the vials. “I need you to put this in Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle’s food tonight at dinner. Only _their_ food. Nobody can know you’ve done it.”

Kreacher gave her a considering stare as he took the vials. “Harriet Potter is wanting Kreacher to poison students?”

“Not poison.” She forced her voice to remain even. “It’ll just make them uncomfortable for a while. I just need them out of the way. Can you do this? Or are you not able to?”

The old elf straightened as though stung. “Kreacher is more than capable. Kreacher is an elf of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, servant of the most Noble-“

“Thank you,” Harry said, cutting him off. “That’s all.”

He gave her one last sour look before he disappeared with a crack.

She let out a breath. It was done. In a few hours she would finally be free. Malfoy would suffer and finally she would get her revenge. There would be no need to rely on Snape’s dubious help. She’d be fine. She wouldn’t fail, she _couldn’t _fail.

There was no other option.

“Pass the mash, would you?”

Harry handed Ron the dish. Above them the ceiling was scattered with stars across the velvet dark of night. The Great Hall had never felt so small. Every breath she took she was aware of his presence, like a heartbeat running through the room. Malfoy’s hair was warm under the candlelight, his skin glowing as he laughed and talked. He was more animated than he’d been all year. In contrast Harry was a ghost. It was like every ounce of happiness he gained he took from her.

She placed her fork down, hand shaking.

“Are you okay Harry?”

She gave Hermione a tired smile. “Yeah, as much as I can be.”

Instead of dropping it like she’d expected, Hermione leaned towards her, lowering her voice. “Um, has Professor Snape talked to you, Harry?”

_Oh_.

She raised an eyebrow, clamping down on the nerves rising. “No? Why would he?”

Hermione turned pink. “Oh- um- I- um, I was thinking you might have- um- been lectured on your last essay.”

“Lucky me,” she said dryly. “He didn’t.”

The other girl quickly returned to her meal, grateful to drop the subject. Harry knew why of course. It didn’t bother her that Hermione had gone behind her back. In their position she would do the same. The surprising part was that Ron would trust Snape. At the sound of wings Harry glanced towards the Slytherin table. Right on time. Amongst the swooping birds she saw Malfoy’s eagle owl drop a letter by him. Her chest felt tight with anticipation, the rest of the meal tasteless.

_Soon_.

The Owlery stank of owl shit and bird. Harry tried to hold her breath as she watched the Marauder’s map. Malfoy’s dot was in the dormitories. No doubt he was writing a letter back to his mother, she could imagine the way he’d look leaning over the parchment. Her hands were sweating. She was too hot and too cold. This was it.

Now or never.

Harry forced herself to calm down, reaching for that still place inside her she went to during a Quidditch match. It was just another match, only the stakes were much higher. If she lost her cool, she’d lose the Snitch. She’d lose everything. Her heart pounded painfully as she watched Malfoy’s dot finally, _finally_ start moving. She held her breath.

Crabbe and Goyle stayed behind in the washroom.

“_Thank Merlin._”

She sighed shallowly and shifted her position. The stone was hard and cold against her arse, causing it to go numb. Now it was just a matter of waiting. The spells she’d use were glowing in her mind, burning at her tongue, tingling in her fingertips. Practiced and practiced. This was it. She let her Lumos die out, darkness swallowing all but the faintest shapes of the birds. The torchlight coming in from the hall was all the light she had to work with.

She waited.

Finally, Malfoy’s dot was almost there and she drew back under the Cloak, wand in hand. Every heartbeat felt loud enough to shake stones. _Closer_. She heard him before she saw him, the smart smack of his shoes against the stone preceding him. Malfoy’s hair gleamed silver by the light of his Lumos, features sharp and haughty.

The sight of him made her dizzy with emotion. He scanned the Owlery carefully before immediately striding over to where his eagle owl perched. She could barely breathe past the lump in her throat.

_Thump_.

The anger tasted like lightning, like the air before a storm. She raised her wand. Once, twice, she swallowed, summoning the concentration.

_Thump_.

“_Subtersilencia_.”

The whisper caused Malfoy to straighten up, but by then the spell had already hit him. She didn’t wait for the startled look to clear from his eyes, her wand was already twirling in motion.

_Thump_.

The jet of light smashed into the stone where he’d been standing, barely throwing himself out of the way in time. _How did he-?!_ She cursed and aimed again. Too late. He reached into his robes and threw something that vaguely registered as black sand.

It went dark.

Harry sucked in a sharp gasp, blinking furiously at the suddenly impenetrable darkness. She cast a Finite and nothing happened. Her panic soared. It couldn’t end here- this _couldn’t_ be it! It was desperate and stupid, but she didn’t care. It was over if he got away now.

“_Accio_ _Draco Malfoy!_”

His body slammed into her and they both went down. Harry gasped, the wind knocked from her as she hit stone. Her wand flew out of her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut against the darkness, struggling with Malfoy. He was too heavy, limbs tangling and bumping painfully as they struggled. An elbow smashed into her face and for a moment she saw stars.

Malfoy had the upper ground now, rolling her over until he was straddling her. One of his hands wrapped around her throat and squeezed. She pulled at him, writhing like a snake. It was useless. He was stronger than her, bigger than her, and her food-starved muscles were weakening the more she thrashed. Tighter and tighter, until fuzziness crowded into her head.

“F- fuck-“

She couldn’t breathe. Her nails scratched uselessly at his wrists, his grip only tightening as his other hand joined it. His body was crushing her, black meeting her eyes when they flew open in panic. Tingles spread through her skull. She _couldn’t_ _breathe_. Panic pushed her higher and higher.

Harry didn’t know when she passed out.

When she came to, Malfoy had let his grip up some. Her throat ached as she took a harsh gasp of air, coughing and hacking. She couldn’t move under his weight, didn’t bother trying. _Useless_. Every gasp burned, tears threatening at the corner of her eyes.

“_Finite_.”

The sound of Malfoy’s voice made her blood go cold. He’d cancelled the spell. He could speak. She stared in horror as the darkness returned to normal. His features were flushed in the dim light, hair no longer perfect. Eyes glittered with hatred to match her own.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Chosen One herself.” He grinned. “Trying to kill me?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

His smile turned sharp, squeezing just a fraction tighter. “Oh, I would, but _I’m_ not _stupid_ enough to end up in your position.”

She swallowed against the pressure and said nothing.

“Did you _really_ think that I wouldn’t find it suspicious Vince and Greg just happened to _both_ get food poisoning?” His grip tightened. “I’m not _stupid_, Potter. I don’t _like_ being treated like an idiot.”

It stung like a whip. _Stupid_. She should have just Stunned him. She hadn’t expected him to be expecting her, she’d been _so_ confident she’d hit him with her binding spell afterwards. It would have been more secure than a Stunner and making sure he couldn’t speak had seemed like the most important thing. Her heart was stuck in her throat. She felt sick.

“I was being _nice_ before. It seems like that was a mistake. Sometimes a dog _needs_ to be whipped to learn.” The gleam in his eyes was cruel. “My father always warned me I was too lenient with you.”

“Get up.”

He got off her, releasing her neck. She gasped for air but didn’t dare disobey and scrambled to her knees. When she stood up Malfoy was watching her, eyes cold. It was a dazed realization that she’d really failed, she’d completely ruined her chance. It was over.

There was no second try.

Malfoy didn’t look away from her as he summoned her wand. Her stomach swooped when he smiled. “Don’t-!”

Too late.

He tossed it out of the large windows that made one wall of the room. She didn’t hear it land, the Owlery was too high up. For a moment there was just the rustle of birds shifting and both of their heavy breathing. Harry swallowed hard.

“You won’t need that.” He smiled slightly. “Now, listen closely, because these are orders. You can never move against me again. Never try to break the debt, never run, never seek help. You are my slave. And you _enthusiastically_ want to do everything I ask you to, which you will make abundantly clear whether prompted or not.”

His smile dripped with satisfaction as he took in her expression.

“Why the face, Potter? I could always just take your magic.” He sneered. “Don’t try to worm out of this either. If you think anyone even _thinks_ you don’t like it, you’ll correct them. You _love_ it.”

“_Why_?”

The word was tiny, dulled. Disbelieving. Why did he hate her _so much_? The days of disliking him as a childhood rival felt like ages ago. Adulthood and the war had stripped bare their last scraps of innocence, and this Draco Malfoy was unrecognizable. Where did the child that offered her his hand on the train go? Had he always been capable of this?

How had things come to this?

He gave her a surprised look. “_Why_? Why _not_? You’re the thing standing between our side and victory.”

“I’m not Dumbledore.” The words fell from numb lips.

“You’re their symbol of hope. When they see that tarnished in the most personal of ways, their hope will die.” He winked at her. “Nice photoshoot by the way. Pansy really does have a good eye.”

She closed her eyes. This was it then? Bile rose on the back of her tongue, struggling not to puke. This was it.

The Snitch was gone, and the score was being called. Malfoy had won.

“Follow me.”

He brought her through the castle and down into the depths. The air grew colder, but she knew she was shivering from more than the temperature. To be Gryffindor was to be brave. Harry didn’t know if she had the bravery to face this- whatever Malfoy had planned. She was afraid. It was the kind of terror that gently seeped into her bones with icy fingers curled around her heart. Soft, subtle, all-consuming.

Malfoy stopped outside a blank stretch of wall and glanced at her with a smirk.

“Purity.”

The wall melted into a handsome door, allowing them into the Slytherin Common Room. Harry tried to ignore the few students. She caught a glimpse of Parkinson giving her a little wave and her stomach tightened. Malfoy didn’t stop, walking to one of the passages leading off. Every time she swallowed, she could feel the memory of his hands on her throat. It kept hitting her over and over that this was really it. There was no escaping. It was like wading through mud.

He took her to the door labeled with a silver ‘6’ and pushed it open. Inside was a dormitory that looked almost identical to the Gryffindor ones, done in silver and green. Zabini looked up from where he laid on his bed, eyes brightening.

“Oh? Did I miss something interesting?”

“Potter tried to kill me,” Malfoy said casually.

Zabini’s grinned in delight. “_Really_? I suppose you’ll be punishing her?”

“Of course.”

“Should I clear out then?” He sat up reluctantly and placed the book he’d been reading to the side.

Malfoy took a moment to mull the thought over. He gave a small savage smile. “No. Potter doesn’t _deserve_ luxuries like privacy. Feel free to watch.”

Harry considered biting her tongue for a wild moment. Her teeth itched with the urge to do it- she could do it- but she couldn’t. Not really. Malfoy scared her but dying scared her more. She wanted to live, she wanted to _fight_. Giving up had never been in her nature. The Dursleys had tried to train obedience and hopelessness into her. Malfoy wouldn’t succeed where they hadn’t. At the end of the day she needed to stop Voldemort, this was all secondary. She would never lose the burning need to _survive_.

_Is this _worth_ surviving, though?_

Harry didn’t have an answer.

“Are you a virgin Potter? Tell me the truth.”

The words stuck in her throat. She swallowed hard. _Not this_\- but of course it was this. Of fucking _course_ it was. Why would it be anything else? Something personal- something _evil_. She hated him.

_Fuck_\- she _hated_ him.

“Yes.”

Zabini whistled and Malfoy grinned. “Well, well, lucky me then.”

“I’ll be teaching you a lesson today,” Malfoy said. “Your side is so obsessed with doing the right thing, moral superiority. Do you want to know what _really_ matters in the world?”

_Thump_.

“_Power_.”

“You’re weak.” He laughed, the sound grating like broken glass. “You couldn’t kill me- and you can’t save yourself now either. Want proof? You’re allowed to resist me, kill me even. Give it your best shot.”

For a frozen second she stared at him and then he lunged. Harry gasped as he slammed into her, pushing her against the wall. The shock faded quickly, and she snarled, pushing back against him. He tried to pin her wrists, but she writhed away. Harry clawed at his face and Malfoy shouted in pain. She knew a moment of triumph before he slammed her head into the wall. Stars flashed.

She cried out.

Malfoy slammed her against the wall again. Her back hit first and it knocked the wind out of her, dazed. His hand curled around her throat, barely able to breathe against the pressure. Hot breath wafted in her face as he laughed.

“See, Potter? _Weak_. If you were worth anything you could stop me.”

Harry let out a snarl and hooked her legs around him, using the momentum to wrench him to the side. He stumbled under her weight and they both went down. She didn’t feel any pain as she hit the stone. It was like being weightless. Everything was moving too quickly and far too slow.

_Thump_.

Harry pinned Malfoy’s arms with her legs. He bucked under her, but he had nothing on brutes like Dudley. A wizard at the end of the day, a spoiled pureblood to boot. She was running on light, both hands wrapped around his throat. His hair was tousled, cheeks flushed, eyes molten silver. The want to see them go lifeless tasted like copper on her tongue. She squeezed tighter.

_Thump_.

Malfoy went limp. Harry didn’t let up, and to nobody’s surprise he surged a moment later. He may have been a wizard, but she was still way lighter than him and weakened by lack of food. They rolled. She tried to pull away, put some distance, but he clung on and slammed her into the ground.

Breathless.

Harry gasped, staring at the vaulted ceiling for a dazed second. Another second later and Malfoy stood over her, foot resting on her stomach. Her chest heaved.

“Like I said.” Malfoy pressed down slightly causing her to squirm. “_Weak_.”

Zabini laughed and Harry closed her eyes. They flew open when Malfoy pressed harder, bordering painful. “Get up Potter. You had your second try, and you _still_ failed.”

He took his foot off her.

Harry took a deep breath and forced herself to her feet. She could feel the pain now, bruises no doubt soon to form. Every heartbeat pounded through her body, bringing waves of cold. Malfoy sighed. “Honestly, I thought you’d put up more of a fight. Some Chosen One. Dumbledore really does pick them from the gutter, doesn’t he?

“Because it was _ever_ a fair fight,” she whispered. “_Right_.”

Malfoy shrugged. “That’s the beauty of life Potter. Some people are just . . . _less_. I can do whatever I want to you and there’s nothing you can do. You’re _weak_. _Pathetic_. I’m going to violate you and you’re going to _thank_ me for it. You’re going to _beg_ me to. _That_ is power.”

“_You_-“ Her core flared, cutting off the words. He was a _monster_. She had never wanted to kill someone so badly, not even Voldemort.

“Convince me you want it, Potter. _Beg_. Be _enthusiastic_. I’m not in the mood for whining, so don’t test me.” He laughed, Zabini barely stifling his own. “Hurry up Potter. Wouldn’t want to lose the only part of you worth anything, would you?”

She exhaled slowly.

It was _too_ _much_\- but it was survival. She tried to shut down the terror, the embarrassment, the shame and repulsion. Malfoy was a monster, that wasn’t going to change. Her chance was gone. Her chance was fucking _gone_. Maybe Snape would swoop in and save her, but not today. Maybe not ever.

She inhaled.

It was survival- it was breaking, but it was survival.

“Sleep with me Malfoy, please.”

Her face burned. Zabini shifted and stifled a laugh while Malfoy raised a pale brow. “That’s the best you got? Merlin- I’ve seen more sexual tension from a flobberworm.”

She felt her face stiffen. _Breathe_. Carefully she arranged her expression into something less sour. “Oh really? Are you sure you aren’t just scared? Slytherins aren’t exactly known for their bravery.”

It was like running on autopilot as she stepped in his space, placing her hand on his chest. She felt stupid, but it was better than focusing on the blank horror. Harry smiled. “I want to fuck you Malfoy. We both know why, but it doesn’t make me want it any less.”

“Desperate to be raped?” He sneered at her.

_Thump_.

“Are you saying you can’t do it?” She pulled him forward by his tie. “All this big talk, but no action in the end. And is it even rape if you want it?”

He laughed. “Nice attitude. You know I almost believe you want it, though you seem a tad upset.” He sighed dramatically. “But seeing as you asked so nicely . . .”

“Fuck me,” she repeated, stepping forward so their faces were inches apart as she looked up at him. “Fuck me and get it over with.”

“Tsk, tsk. So _demanding_.”

He grabbed her and bodily tossed her onto the bed. Harry gasped as she bounced against silky soft sheets, barely orienting herself before Malfoy Banished her clothes. Cool air ghosted across her skin causing goosebumps to rise. She could see Zabini watching from his bed, lazily stroking his cock. _Disgusting_. She wanted to puke.

“How does it feel knowing the first man to ever touch you hates you? That you were violated?” He spread her legs roughly, his robe discarded and pants unbuckled.

She gritted her teeth, feeling her core burn. “Amazing.”

He smirked. “Good. Make sure you show it too- wouldn’t want to fuck a dead fish.”

_Thump_.

Harry tried to disconnect, to pretend she was with someone else as he slicked his cock with a whispered lubricant spell. It didn’t work. She was right there as he spread her legs further and lined up. Every sensation slammed into her as his head slowly pushed inside. When she made the mistake of looking at him, he was staring straight at her. _Vile_. Harry forced herself to give a moan. Further he pressed, stretching her painfully stiff muscles. It was humiliating, foreign, repulsive. _Painful_. An impossible fullness and the heat of skin on skin. Sensations taken from her, forced upon her. _Violation_.

“How does it feel?” Malfoy asked once he was fully inside.

_Horrible_. Harry took a shuddering breath. “S- so good.”

“Is this your best at enthusiastic?” He pulled out until he was just barely inside her, then slammed back in causing her to gasp.

“Please- keep going. It feels _so_ _good_.” The words barely felt real as she said them, forcing herself to look at him.

His smile was terrible.

Malfoy didn’t fuck her quickly. It was worse in the slow methodical way he pumped into her. Every movement had her pulling on him, clenched around him, forced to take each stroke. A slow kind of breaking. She tried to lose herself in it, to shut off her brain.

“Oh fuck- so good.”

“Please- keep going-“

Eventually he found the spot that caused her to clench around him and gasp, despite her disgust. Malfoy laughed. “Like that, Potter?”

“Yes, _fuck_\- more-“ She squeezed her eyes shut, clinging harder with her legs, forcing him back in.

Again and again he hit it until she was moaning in a way that wasn’t entirely faked. She was beyond shame. Her emotions had shut down and she was running on survival instincts. There was nothing but the pull of flesh, Malfoy’s grunts and her own gasps. The heat rising in her stomach as he moved inside her. Rushing blood, flushed skin, slickness that wasn’t spell-made. She let out a small cry as she finally came, clenching and spasming around him.

Malfoy slammed impossible deep into her. “_Fuck_-!“

He stilled.

When Malfoy moved again it felt different and she realized distantly he’d come inside her. Her chest rose and fell harshly as she stared at the canopy. He pulled out. She inhaled slowly and exhaled, barely feeling the air in her lungs. No longer a virgin. Another innocence taken from her. She closed her eyes, not needing to fight the urge to cry.

It was hard to feel anything.

“Remember your manners, Potter,” Malfoy said.

She opened her eyes to give him a tired look. It was hard to speak past the shards of glass she’d swallowed. The words were a whisper. “Thank you.”

After that Harry sort of lost track of time. Malfoy was saying something to Zabini, but she just stared up. Part of her was falling down, down, down, and she didn’t know when she would hit the bottom. Her mind felt fragile, balanced in a careful place of _not thinking_. If she just didn’t think about it- if she just _didn’t_ _remember_-

Something landed on her.

“Get dressed.”

They were her clothes, soft and familiar in her hands. She closed her eyes for a heartbeat before forcing herself up. It was mechanical to crawl out of bed and pull on the garments. _Just breathe_. Once she was dressed, Malfoy grabbed her by the arm. “Come on, it’s about time you see your new Lord.”

She froze.

“_What_?”

He smirked at her expression. “What’s wrong? Scared?”

“You can’t.” She swallowed hard as her voice died. “You can’t- you can’t order me to go to my death.”

Malfoy laughed. “He doesn’t need to kill you anymore. Keeping you as a slave is a much more satisfying revenge, I think I’ve proven. And that is well within the debt. I would have brought you by tomorrow, but seeing as you’re here now . . .”

_Thump_.

“_Oh_.”

Harry had known it was over, but she hadn’t realized how true it was.

It felt distant as he led her into the Common Room. She didn’t meet anybody’s eyes. Malfoy didn’t waste time socializing, despite the whispers that started. He just grabbed a handful of Floo powder and smirked at her. “Try to behave yourself. He isn’t nearly as kind as I am.”

He tossed the glittering powder and scarlet flames turned venomous green with a hiss. Harry felt a cold sweat snaking down her back, a panic rising in her gut. At the same time, she was detached. It barely felt real. It was like part of her had been left back in the dormitory. She didn’t know how to get it back. Her stomach heaved and she stepped into the flames at Malfoy’s beckon. They barely felt like anything.

“Malfoy Manor!”

Harry’s last view of Hogwarts was swallowed by green.

They were spit out of a handsome marble fireplace. The room was airy, with big windows showing a sparkling night sky over dark grounds. Bookshelves held carefully ordered novels, clearly some kind of study. Harry barely had a moment to breathe before Malfoy tugged her forward.

“Move. And remember, you obey him.”

Golden gilded paintings, white roses, and imposing black marble made up the manor. The floor shone like a mirror, their steps echoing forebodingly. Everything was impossibly grand and pristine. More a museum than a home. It didn’t feel real. It was over and she could barely believe it. Her scar throbbed, steadily worsening as they drew closer to wherever Voldemort was. A growing dampness between her legs was a constant reminder of what Malfoy had done. _Disgusting_.

She felt numb.

The room was impossibly large, likely a ballroom. Cream walls offset the black marble floor and gold trimmings betrayed the wealth. There were no paintings on the walls or furniture in the room expect for a single throne. It was carved from obsidian, reflecting the flames flickering from braziers lining the room. Voldemort’s skin seemed extra white against it, long limbs clad in black robes. By his feet Nagini lay coiled, impossibly huge and dark. Burning crimson eyes settled on them and the Dark Lord gave a lipless smile. Her scar ached.

“Harry Potter herself.” His voice was a sibilant hiss, as terrifying as it was inhuman. “How kind of you to join us.”

Harry said nothing. It was over, truly over. She wasn’t going to die. It was much worse than that. Every breath felt like it was ripped from her lungs. There would be no end to this nightmare. Nagini let out a hissing laugh.

_She smells of fear, Master._

“_Is that so, darling_?” Voldemort caressed the serpent’s head before returning his gaze to them.

“I find myself . . . pleased you’ve joined us. Well done, Draco.” He gave Malfoy a smile like he genuinely valued him. “You will be handsomely rewarded.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Malfoy murmured, bowing respectfully.

Voldemort stood then, tall and skeletal in his robes. “Come here, Potter.”

Harry walked forwards, staring hard at his lips instead of his eyes. She could smell blood and sharp herbs this close, the air gaining a chill. Her heart thundered as cold fingers touched her, pulling her chin up. She had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“Harry Potter,” he hissed, smiling indulgently. “Brought to me at long last. And so _deliciously_ under my control.”

_Thump._

She shivered at the uncomfortable feeling of him pressing into her mind. His eyes burned like twin embers, serpentine features twisted with delight.

“Kneel. Kneel and kiss the feet of your new master.”

Harry took a shuddering breath. It was over. There wasn’t going to be a last minute rescue, no bird or hat was coming for her. She was alone.

_Thump._

She kneeled, trying to ignore the deadness in her chest. Voldemort’s feet were oddly graceful, slender and white. _Repulsive_. Harry took a harsh breath, head hanging. This was it- there was nobody coming to save her. She felt heavy. Her scar throbbed in tune with her heartbeat. What this meant for the war- she didn’t know. It didn’t matter anymore really. There was no escaping, not with the debt. This was her life now.

It was over.

Harry kissed his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand that concludes this fic! I hope you guys enjoyed it. Not a happy ending by any means, but I think it made sense to the story. Let me know what you think! Good or bad I'm interested in knowing. Was the story's pacing alright? I'm not used to writing multi-chapter fics so this was a first for me. I tried not to go too fast or too slow. And don't be afraid to leave suggestions for a future fic. I'm always looking for inspiration. Thank you to everyone that has supported this fic, whether that be commenting, leaving a kudo, bookmarking, or simply lurking and thinking nice things. I had a good time writing this fic and I'm glad to see people enjoyed it.


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